


It Begins With Love

by brokenhighways



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternate Universe - Tennis, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, M/M, Redemption, Rivalry, Tennis, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenhighways/pseuds/brokenhighways
Summary: Jared Padalecki is a world class tennis player with a headstrong attitude, and Jensen Ackles is a former player now acting as his trainer, but it wasn't always that way. They became best friends after crossing paths in college, and remained so until a falling out caused them to go their separate ways (without addressing the fact that Jensen's been harboring a crush on Jared since they met).When Jensen is forced into early retirement, he decides to become a physical therapist. He ends up working with Jared's nemesis, Tom Welling, and trying to rekindle his friendship with Jared. Meanwhile, Jared's strong desire to win at all costs leaves him isolated and the recipient of unwelcome media attention, and amidst the backstabbing and fighting, the emotional battles end up spiraling off the court and bleeding into real life.





	It Begins With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychmerlin/gifts).



> That summary is convoluted as hell, but it's a Tennis!AU with angst, drama and a happy ending. :)
> 
> Written for psychmerlin as a long overdue birthday fic. We came up with a Tennis!AU prompt YEARS ago and I decided to write it. And then wrote something else entirely, but what's new? Anyway, she's always been a great friend and help with regards to my writing and I truly appreciate it. <3
> 
> Many thanks for ferrous_wheeler for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> You don't really need to understand tennis to read this but here's some additional information:
> 
>  
> 
> [Tennis For Dummies](http://www.dummies.com/sports/tennis/tennis-for-dummies-cheat-sheet//)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tennis Cheat Sheet For New Players](http://www.active.com/tennis/articles/tennis-cheat-sheet-for-new-players)
> 
>  
> 
> [Grand Slam](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Slam_\(tennis\))
> 
>  
> 
> [Points](http://pe2go.weebly.com/uploads/2/7/1/4/27146867/1899757_orig.jpg)

# “love”

_Jared_

__  


It happens so quickly.

One minute Jared's whacking tennis balls back and forth with his training partner, and the next the kid goes down and doesn't get back up. There's a flurry of movement, but Jared -being the driven individual that he is - blocks it out.

The thing about tennis is that you need to be driven and you need to be focused. The kid might recover and be back on the court. He might be laid up. He might never play competitive tennis again.

None of that matters as much as Jared's forehand.

He’s an up and coming tennis played enrolled in a college program at the prestigious Winterfield University. People come and people go, and this kid isn’t the first. He certainly won’t be the last.  
  
Two days after the training incident, Jared is paired up with an older student called Jensen Ackles. He's one of the wealthier kids but Jared tries not to let that cloud his judgement. Jared was spotted at a public court when he was twelve and other players were handed a silver spoon. The how’s and why’s don't matter when you win and that's all Jared is interested in. He wants to break the Grand Slam records, wants to kiss all of those trophies. He wants success, fame and fortune. He's driven and he's never been ashamed of that.  
  
Naturally, Jensen is completely different. He listens to all of Jared's aspirations with a small smile on his face but shrugs when Jared questions whether he wants the same.  
  
"My parents think I have what it takes to be a champ," he admits quietly after Jared badgers him relentlessly. He likes to be around people who have the same goals as him because that’s what he needs to push himself. However, he likes Jensen’s easy demeanour; the way he plays tennis in a relaxed way and never seems too strung out when he loses a point. He is always approachable, always there to take everyone’s mind off tennis when everything gets too much. Jared’s the opposite; he burns bright, gets angry; takes it out on the court. His personal coach keeps warning him that a hot temper won’t help his tennis, but he doesn’t know how else to release his frustration.

“What about you?” he asks Jensen. “What do you think?” Jensen shrugs, his green eyes boring into Jared’s as he tips his head back and takes a swig of water.

“It’s fun. I like playing tennis, love watching it, _and_ I do want to do the slams and everything, but... I kind of just want to have fun?”

He makes it sound so easy. _Fun_.

Jared realises then that things will always be different for them. Jensen’s never had to suffer a day in his life. He’s the middle child of Adam and Fiona Ackles, a Dallas couple who are living on inherited wealth and obsessed with how they’re perceived within their prestigious community. He will never know what it’s like to be wrapped up in a million blankets but still feel a chill, or having to ration food because his Momma wasn’t called into work that day. Jared _has_ to make this work but Jensen has options.

That’s just the way it is.

~

Jensen's chattier than Jared's last partner. Or maybe it's that Jared is willing to listen to him. During their first session, Jared finds himself smiling and laughing more times than he has since he arrived at Winterfield. Usually, he's composed and serious but Jensen seems to find a way underneath the armour and Jared realises that he's _missed_ having someone to talk to. Growing up, he never had many friends. Not with tennis being the priority. He was always the kid who ate lunch alone, and kept to himself until it was time for him to go to practise.

So far, college has been more of the same.

“You know, you're not as bad as people make you out to be,” Jensen's saying when they're walking off the practice court. It's the third day since Jared's old partner hobbled off the court and his second with Jensen. He wonders who's been talking about him.

“People think I'm bad?” he asks, desperately trying to keep the edge out of his voice. Jared doesn't give a damn about being liked but talking behind his back is another scenario entitled.

Jensen seems to sense that he's said something wrong and he gives Jared a long, hard look, as if he's trying to decipher some kind of puzzle.

“I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice that most of the freshmen players are paired with other freshmen,” Jensen says eventually. “They put me with you because they thought you'd do better with some guidance from someone with more experience.”

Jared has to smile because that's a very diplomatic way of putting it. He's under no illusions about the way people perceive him. They think he's a show off, stuck up and obnoxious.

“I see,” he replies simply. “Why you?”

They're in the hallway now, and Jared catches a few of the other students eyeing them curiously. College tennis isn't as prolific as some of the other sports but it has a decent following.

“Why not me?” Jensen answers with a cryptic smile. He pats Jared's shoulder and disappears around a corner a before Jared can even figure out what that means.

~

Jared's eating lunch on an isolated picnic table on the South Quad when someone drops down into the bench across from his. He looks up and raises an eyebrow when he sees that it's Jensen. He sets his turkey club sandwich and takes a swig of water. He doesn't say anything because it's not like they're _friends_. Jensen's got his little group of friends and Jared has his pocketbook of notes. It's all tennis; how he can improve, different techniques, his fitness stats. It's always tennis.

“You sit here every day and scribble into that book,” Jensen says once the silence has grown to the point of unbearable. “You need to relax.”

Jared snorts and picks up his sandwich. “I'll relax when I'm a Grand Slam winner. How 'bout that?” A couple of people pass by but they don't look over at the table. They never do. Jared likes it that way. He's used to the quiet, used to getting lost in his own head.

“I'm sure that'll happen for you at some point, but today? You need to chill,” Jensen tells him. “I enjoy working with you, Jared but you're a little intense. Part of being a good tennis player is being able to adapt. I can rise to your level and get on board with your determination, but you also need to realise that I'm the kind of player that needs to be relaxed.”

“If you can't handle me, then you're more than welcome to request another partner,” Jared says with a shrug. He ignores the way Jensen's words hurt, like a moment in his past when he was left on his own. It's why he doesn't form attachments or depend on people. People only let you down if _you_ let them, that's the mantra he repeats to himself.

“Oh, I certainly am,” Jensen says, his green eyes shining brightly under the warm sun. “You, on the other hand, well, not so much. Plus, you're not getting rid of me that easily. You're one of the most talented players I've seen, Jared, and the only thing letting you down is your attitude.”

Jared rolls his eyes because he's heard this before. Usually, people get over it because he's _good,_ but Jensen's like a dog with a bone. He keeps on giving him advice and telling him to be himself and it's getting old.

“Why do you even care?” he snaps.

Jensen looks away momentarily before he looks back and shrugs. “I'm your friend, Jared. Friends are allowed to care.”

Friend.

It's been a long time since Jared's had one of those. A real one, anyway. He knows all about fake friends. Still, he doesn't know why Jensen cares. Jared's dedication to tennis comes above all and he's not going to jeopardise that for anyone or anything. Not when tennis is the only thing he's good at.

“I've got to get to class, but I usually run around this quad in the mornings. Nothing major, just a light sprint,” Jensen says. “If you want, you can join me.”

He leaves without waiting for an answer and Jared stares after him.

~

They go from running together to hanging out and Jared's confused by it all. Jensen's already the best friend he's ever had, but his casual attitude towards tennis is off putting and irritating. Sometimes, he wants to shake Jensen by the shoulders and ask him why he's even here, but he knows the answer already.

Today, Jensen's sitting across from him in the library with his books spread out across from him. Jared can see that two female students at the table next to them blatantly checking him out, but Jensen's oblivious. Jared's not aware of any girlfriend, and they've never really discussed it. Romance is off the cards in Jared's case because he's got to remain focused. Although, it's hard at the moment. His father was adamant that Winterfield was the place to be but Jared's in the middle of being scouted by a mid level coach. Suddenly, he's not so sure what path he's taking and he's glad that he has Jensen.

“I'm thinking of going pro,” Jared says quietly, just to test the waters. “what do you think?”

Jensen looks confused at first before his mouth twists into a thin line. “You've been letting that coach sweet talk you, haven't you?”

Jared places his pen on the desk and prepares himself for a fight.

It never comes.

“It's up to you, man,” Jensen adds, his expression more open than before. “At least you know what you want.”

The thing is that Jared's used to Jensen being around. He's used to the calming presence and the way Jensen's always got his back. If he leaves Winterfield now, he's going to lose that.

However, if he stays, he might never get a chance to be as great as he knows he can be.

“Yeah,” he says dryly, when Jensen offers him a small smile. “I know what I want.”

~

When Jared's stressed, he tends to take it out in those closest to him. His parents, his siblings, _Jensen_. Right now, his mind is weighed down with thoughts of going pro. He's one of the most talented players on the program, has an enviable win record and he's _bored._ He's ready for a bigger challenge, ready to look up into the stands and see crowds of people who have paid to watch _him_. His father doesn't agree, but they both know that Jared's not going to listen to him, not over something this important.

That leaves Jensen, who still seems to be coasting by. He never unlocks his fill potential and only plays his best when Jared goads him into friendly matches. When it's just them, Jensen is brilliant and Jared realises that he doesn't have to make his decision alone.

Jensen's got to turn pro at some point. Perhaps they can do it together.

“Your stance is all off, man,” Jared says when Jensen jogs off the court. Technically, it wasn't that bad but Jared's trying to push Jensen to give his all.

The flicker of irritation on Jensen's face doesn't escape his notice.

“Thanks, Coach,” he says with a grimace. “I think I'm done for today.”

“You said you'd play with me,” Jared reminds him.

There's a long silence and Jared's sure that Jensen's going to decline the way he has been of late.

“Just give me a minute, okay?” Jensen says in the end. “Fucking bossy asshole.”

Jared laughs at that and reaches over to sock Jensen's ask gently. “You love it.”

Jensen's response is to mutter a few choice words but not before his eyes flickers and meet Jared's for a brief moment. Jensen breaks the contact first and flops down into the ground. After rifling in his bag and he grabs a bottle of water and pours it all over his head.

Normally, Jared would mock him, but there's something else playing on his mind. There's something about the way that Jensen looked at him that stays with him for a long time.

~

Jared tries to keep up with school but people start to notice him. After a while, the academic side takes a backseat to his burgeoning rise and he makes the decision to drop out of Winterfield and turns pro. It’s tough at first but eventually he wins a few junior championships and small tournaments. He keeps in touch with Jensen, always texts and calls, but the fact that it isn’t the same isn’t lost on him.

Jensen’s always got words of encouragement before a major game, words of praise when he wins. On the flip side, Jared is always giving Jensen pointers, always telling him what he needs to do better. Their friendship has always been about supporting each other and having the other's back. Jensen was the only person to stick up for him when a particularly harsh coach at Winterfield laid into him. Since then, they've been good friends and unfortunately that means that Jared's often as hard on Jensen as he is on himself when it comes to tennis. In Jared's mind, anything other than perfection is failure.

It’s what eventually leads to their downfall.

Jared’s sitting in his hotel room, watching Jensen’s fourth round match at the **AON Open Challenger** in Italy when it happens. Jensen darts forward to return his shot and stumbles, awkwardly landing on one foot. The crowd seem to gasp collectively along with Jared. Jensen's face twists up in pain and he ends up limping off the court. The umpire halts the match, even though it's clear that Jensen can't see this through. There is a flurry of activity as officials, trainers, medical team flow onto the court. Given that Jensen’s had a few ankle injuries already, this is big. This could make or break his career and that _angers_ Jared because he’s told Jensen to be careful a million times.

At this point, he and Jensen have a tense relationship. Jared can’t work out if they’re friends or _more,_ but he knows that what they have is hanging on a string. Ever since he quit Winterfield to turn pro there’s been some tension between them. Being a professional tennis player is all that Jared’s ever wanted but it’s _hard_. He can admit that he hasn’t been the best person in the last few years, let alone the best friend. Jensen’s always telling him that he quit Winterfield too early, but Jared’s stubborn; he doesn’t want to hear that.

In a way, the fact that Jensen doesn’t call him back that evening says it all. Jensen doesn’t want it enough; he never has. Still, his bad luck with injuries is something that Jared wouldn’t wish on anyone, much less Jensen who’s stuck in the shadow of what his parents want.

He’s got those thoughts in mind when  Jensen eventually gets through to him via phone.

“How bad is it?” He always asks that first because it’s always important to tackle an injury head-on. Process it. Deal with it and work your butt off to come back from it.

Jensen lets out an angry hiss and practically barks, “Now’s not the fucking time for this, Jared. I didn’t call you to get a lecture from you.”

He sounds angry, tense and worn out at the same time and part of Jared thinks maybe he should let this go, but the other part is desperate to ensure that Jensen doesn't give up. Not after all that he's worked for.

Jared takes a deep breath and tries not to get worked up. He’s got an intense practise session tomorrow and that’s his main focus. This _thing_ with Jensen isn’t going to help him get all of the trophies and accolades he’s desired.

“Why did you call, then?” he asks simply. It’s not a loaded question; it never is with him.

“To tell you that I fractured my ankle again,” Jensen tells him easily. He sounds almost relieved and that bothers Jared. To him, it’s like Jensen is giving up - something that he himself can’t afford to do. He’s hit by a sudden wave of jealousy and can’t stop himself from lashing out.

“I _told_ you that you needed to work on your legwork.” He winces at the condescending tone of his voice, can practically imagine Jensen’s eyes darkening in anger.

“You said a lot of things, Jared,” Jensen replies tiredly. “It’s been bugging me for a while, and you know it finally hit me on the drive to the hotel: you don’t care about me. Not the way I... the way I care about you. Which is fine, I knew what you were about, but I was so sure that there was some hidden depth to you. Something other than the shallow, narcissistic front that you display. The way you think that you’re the only person who’s ever had it hard. The way you judge _me_ because of my parents. I... don’t know why I’ve kept in contact with for you as long as I have.”

To say that Jared is shocked by Jensen’s words would be an understatement. Jensen’s always been quiet and reserved, always sort of followed Jared blindly. They roomed together for a month when Jensen first turned pro and needed some pointers. Hell, Jensen didn’t rebuff him the first (and last) time that Jared kissed him. Racking his brain, Jared can’t think of any indication that Jensen was upset or angry with him.

Except for the part where maybe there was.

The unanswered emails, the short responses to his long texts, the terse conversations. They were all signs that Jared didn’t see.

Still, the worst part is that Jared can’t allow himself to be torn up by this. He cannot get distracted not when his goal is to win a slam before he’s twenty-three. He pauses momentarily, acutely aware that he about to lose his best friend. It's a split second choice between being the friend he should or going after what he really wants.

“Well, allow me to make it easy for you then,” Jared retorts when he's made up his mind. “Have a nice fucking life.”

He hangs up then, with the uneasiness in his stomach telling him that maybe Jensen’s earned the right to have the last word. What shocks him the most is that he was never going to let Jensen have that hold on him, never going to let him be the one to end things. That would be too much like _losing,_ and he hates losing.

It’s funny, though, because that’s the day that he realises that winning ugly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

~

_Jensen_

__

Jensen’s laid up for six long, boring months. His parents are disappointed, but he has no place of his own so he’s stuck staying with them. At first, he dodges their questions when he doesn’t reconnect with his trainer and fires his coach, but, eventually, he manages to tell them that he’s done. This is his third major injury and Jensen just can’t do it anymore. He might only be twenty-three but enough is enough. He’s done living somebody else’s dream.

Jensen’s nothing like his socially obsessed parents, but somehow, he’s always tarnished with the same brush. Take Jared, who seemed to think that life for Jensen was so easy that he felt no pressure. There’s a difference between playing to win and playing because it’s fun, and for all the stick he gave Jared, Jensen’s finally realised that he’s been doing neither. He enjoys tennis well enough, liked learning about the technical aspects, but _playing_ competitively? Not so much.

So, he decides to use his recovery time to figure out what he wants in life. With his sudden free time, he finds himself thinking about Jared often. That last conversation playing on his mind because he thinks maybe he should have called back. Sometimes he tells himself that Jared was just trying to be helpful, but he knows that whatever friendship they had was deeply flawed.

Jensen’s always been quiet and a little reserved but his secret-crush on Jared just isn’t worth being treated like that.

He’s done putting himself second behind tennis.

~

While at Winterfield, Jensen completed his physical therapy degree, and he decides to give that a shot. That means taking graduate courses, and he finds himself knee-deep in textbooks as he tries to obtain the relevant qualifications. He befriends a guy called Chris, a former soccer player who’s going down the same route he is. They get on well, have the same tastes in music and various things and being friends with him is _easy._ He even tells Chris about Jared and pretends that he’s over it when he receives a sympathetic pat on his shoulder.

“Dude, you really had a thing for this guy!” Chris exclaims when Jensen fails to pick up where he left off. “What did he do to you?”

Jensen shrugs and smiles sadly. “He told me to have a ‘nice fucking life’”

Chris practically spits out his beer. He frowns and brushes his long brown hair out of his face. “Well. One. He’s a dick. Two. You, my friend, need to get over him. And I’m going to help you.”

Jensen frowns because, his dating experience is zero (besides a confusing drunken kiss with Jared they never spoke about).

“I’m not so sure that it’s a good idea…”

Chris shakes his head furiously. “No. My mind's made up. Tomorrow night we’re going to go out and get you a boyfriend.”

This time Jensen splutters while drinking his beer. “ _Boyfriend_!”

“Yes!” Chris replies excitedly.

~

Halfway through Chris’ quest to get him a boyfriend, Jensen finds himself ditching his friend on what happens to be a particularly boozy night - except _he’s_ sober and has to somehow find his own way home. He’s walking along the main street when someone bumps into him. After regaining his footing, he steps back and finds himself staring up into blue eyes. He looks further and realises that those blue eyes go with dark hair and a strong athletic build dressed in a red shirt and blue jeans. Jensen also realises that he _recognises_ him.

He’s surprised when the man stops and says, “Hey, you look kind of familiar?”

Jensen can feel his cheeks flame, and after a night of being pawed at, he just wants to run away. Still, there’s something earnest and warm in this man’s eyes that makes him pause.

“And you’re Tom Welling, former junior Wimbledon champion,” he says with a surprising level of coherency. He’s a fan of the guy and has seen a couple of his matches here and there.

Tom grins at him brightly, revealing two rows of gleaming teeth. “Ah, a fan.”

Jensen shrugs self-consciously. “Actually, I was on the circuit for a while. Retired recently after one too many injuries.”

He feels a bit awkward talking about it because there are some people in the tennis world - like Jared - who see early retirement as giving up. Sure, there are the nice pleasantries, but behind the scenes there’s always one person who sees it as weakness.

“That’s a shame, man,” Tom says in a friendly tone. “It’s rough out there, but I admire someone who knows when to just stop...you know?”

Jensen nods even though he doubts that Tom really gets it. From what Jensen’s heard, Tom has a near-perfect injury record. “Yeah, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t have that drive. But...some people do. It’s all about knowing your limits. Both as a person and an athlete.”

“Sounds like you really know your stuff,” Tom says with another bright grin. “Maybe we can get together and talk about it some time?”

Oh. _Oh._ Is Tom asking him out?

“Uh, sure,” Jensen replies awkwardly. “I’m Jensen, by the way.”

A group of women brush past them before Tom can answer and he watches as they appraise them silently. They must look weird, just standing there on the sidewalk. Or maybe it’s just him. Tom follows the girls with his gaze before he turns back to Jensen.

“Nice to meet you. So, do you live in L.A. or are you just visiting?”

Jensen’s surprised that Tom still wants to talk to him. The girls have just disappeared into what sounds like a very fun club and he’s expecting Tom to follow them.

“I live here,” Jensen informs him. “I’m studying now. Even though I don’t play anymore, I still _love_ tennis, you know. I’m planning on becoming a physical therapist that specialises in tennis, so yeah, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Huh,” Tom says curiously. “You know, maybe I can help? You can work with my team for a bit, get some experience? I'm all about helping my fellow players.”

Jensen’s eyes widen. “That would be amazing. Seriously.”

“Well, then. I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” Tom says as he takes his phone out and makes a big show of exchanging numbers with Jensen. It’s all a bit surreal and he barely registers Tom asking him if he needs a ride home.

“Uh, yeah….”

Tom shakes his head a little but then he begins to walk off, leaving Jensen jogging after him.

~

Jensen's only been working for Tom for six months but can tell that the man has had something on his mind. Even though Tom always gets angry over a loss, this is different. So even though everyone gives him a wide berth and lets him cool down, Jensen can’t help lingering in the locker room. It’s a first-round loss, a complete surprise to everyone. Except for Jensen. Tom’s been not himself over the past few weeks. Something’s been on his mind and Jensen doesn’t know what it is. He’s just glad that Tom hasn’t yelled for him to get out yet.

“You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” Jensen asks him when he sits down on the wooden bench. “You’ve been off for a while.”

Tom raises his head up from where his face has been pressed into a white towel. “Would it be terribly cliché for me to say ‘bad breakup’?”

He's lying, and Jensen catches sight of a rolled-up paper inside Tom’s bag. Suddenly it all makes sense. Especially as Jensen is aware that Tom doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he, for one, does read the newspapers. 

“Oh, so it’s not the fact that _everyone_ is saying that Jared Padalecki is better than you were last year?”

Tom smiles a little. “Are you a psychic?”

Jensen’s not a psychic, he’s just _observant_. He was there the day that Tom read the article and he’s been there most days since. Rivalries are rife in the sports world, especially individual sports like tennis. Jared’s wasted no time in making some fiery remarks but Jensen’s told Tom to ignore him. Jared’s comments are bad form - both for the game and his career.

“Look, I know Jared,” he finally admits. “I trained with him for about a year and a half and I was damn near his best friend for all of that time. If you want to get ahead of this rivalry - I’m your guy.”

Tom snorts and tosses the towel onto the floor. “Dude, I know all about your history. We looked you up. But I’m not that guy. I don’t play mind games with other players.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow as he stands. “In public, no. Behind the scenes? You might just have to. Especially with Jared. He’s not the kind of player that’ll shy away from being the media’s new darling.”

“Trust me, I know,” Tom replies cryptically.

He presses his face back into the towel before Jensen can ask him what he means.

# “15”

Jared

__

 

_“It's been three years since the young American turned pro and finally, he can reap the awards. I must say that I think the Welling-Padalecki rivalry is just beginning. And well, let the games begin. Over to you, Jim…”_

Jared wins his first slam shortly before he turns twenty-three.

He stands on the orange clay at the _Stade Roland Garros_ , his smile so wide that his face hurts. His skin is sticky with sweat and his hair’s stuck in messy clumps now that he’s ripped his white headband off, but he doesn’t care.

It all comes down to this: the gleaming trophy clutched tightly in his hands.

It was a hard-fought match, with his opponent (and rival), Tom Welling, taking him to five sets. Finally, after four hours, Tom over-hit a return shot and the umpire was calling out. Even though it just happened twenty minutes ago, it replays in Jared’s mind like a home movie from years ago. He remembers looking up at the scoreboard and feeling his heart soar just as he crashed to the court. The scent of the clay permeated in his nostrils but it was a _good_ thing. Hell, he wonders if they’ll let him scoop some of the powder into a little jar so he can keep it as a keepsake. It’s been said that the French Open is the most demanding, and that just makes Jared glad that he’s won it first; it’s like he’s managed to prove that he’s _truly_ good at playing tennis professionally.

It makes him believe that he can be _great_ \- and that’s one hell of a rush.

After the press events and being whisked back to his hotel, he finally gets to bed at three in the morning and he’s surprised to see a text from an unknown number waiting for him.

_Well done. -JA_

Jared feels a stab of disappointment in himself when he realises that it’s from _Jensen_. He would be lying if he said that he’s never thought about his former best friend. Despite their difficulties, it feels like Jensen was the last person he was every truly able to let loose with. To laugh with. To be himself with. He always thinks about the time they ditched college for two days and went on a road trip to a Foo Fighters concert in the next town over. How free he felt as they jumped up and down to the music and let themselves be swayed by the crowd.

However, the worst part is that Jared knows that he’s still going to be _that guy_. The one whose sole focus is on tennis. On winning. So, while losing the friendship hurts, it’s just the way it has to be.

He doesn’t bother to text back.

~

Two weeks after he wins the French Open, his mother sells a story to ESPN about how he’s cut his family off. Jared’s in the middle of a practise session when his agent, Chad, comes sprinting across the court, waving his iPhone furiously. After a quick apology, Jared’s forced to cut the session short and waste time figuring out what his response will be.

“Why do I even need to have a response?” Jared asks Chad. They’re in a local cafe in L.A., enjoying the sunshine while dodging paparazzi. He picks up his coffee and sips at it angrily. “My mom wants to cash in on my fame. It’s hardly breaking news.”

The feud with his parents has been ongoing for the past few years and sometimes Jared’s not sure how it snowballed so quickly. One minute they were his biggest fans and the next nothing he did was right and it one argument after another.

Cutting them off just made sense.

“It makes _you_ look bad,” Chad tells him. He glances around to make sure that no one can hear them and Jared rolls his eyes. His stock has risen immensely in the past month but he refuses to get caught up by it; his focus is on getting ready for Wimbledon in July. The media can gorge themselves on this fake feud he supposedly has with Welling and the very real one that he has with his parents.

“And I’m supposed to care about that?” Jared says gruffly. “‘Cause I really don’t.”

Chad finally puts his phone down and levels Jared with a serious look. “You should. There’s word about your attitude and it’s putting off potential sponsors. Nike called me up last week but they had ‘questions’ about your commitment.”

Jared blinks rapidly because _what_? His commitment to what?

“It’s corporate speak for ‘this guy is a loose cannon’”, Chad informs him. “You need to be nicer. Both for the sake of your image and yourself. Whatever chip you’ve got on your shoulder needs to be knocked down.”

Jared can feel himself getting irritated, not because he disagrees but because he knows that Chad is right. He wakes up with tension running under his veins and _always_ feels like he’s got this huge weight on his shoulders. That in turn makes him snappy and irritable and... he doesn’t really want to be that way anymore.

It’s time for change.

~

That’s how he finds himself meeting up with renowned sports psychologist Katie Cassidy. They’re in her office, which is all white, right down to the couches. It makes Jared feel a touch out of place but he takes a deep breath and settles down onto the plush leather.

“So, Jared,” Katie says as he looks at her. She’s hot - long blonde hair and black frame glasses, and she’s in a purple dress that fits her well and accentuates her curves. Jared’s not really a _player_ , but he’s had his fair share of the ladies ( _and_ men) ever since his Grand Slam win.

“Uh, yeah,” Jared says abruptly when he realises that Katie is watching him with a look that seems to suggest that he was blatantly checking her out.

Katie just smiles pleasantly. “Why are you here today?” Jared sighs and scratches at his neck. Although, he thinks Chad was right about his attitude, he’s not so sure about _therapy_. At least not in the way Chad meant it.

“I’m here because my agent thinks I’m a dick and because my parents hate me,” he tells her. “You got a cure for all of that?”

The situation with his parents is difficult. Jared’s father has always managed his career, but as he became older they began to disagree. Everything kind of spiralled when Jared quit Winterfield and found his coach, Michael Rosenbaum. Now he barely speaks to his parents To an outsider it’ll sound egotistical, but Jared’s got his reasons.

It’s his life, his money. He can do what he wants with it.

“No, I don’t, but... I think that you have several different issues that we can work on,” Katie says in that same indifferent tone. “Let’s start with your parents.”

~

The therapy sessions make Jared uneasy and he finds himself needing to let loose. Wimbledon is still playing on his mind, specifically his third-round exit, and he just wants to forget about tennis for a while. He ends up in a place called _Mickey’s Tapas Bar_ and picks a table somewhere near the back. He’s on his own because Chad couldn’t make it and the only ‘friend’ he has out here is his training partner Gregor… and Jared’s not so sure that Gregor likes him all that much.

With that weighing on his mind, he finds himself wishing that he’d just stayed at home. Despite that he lets the waiter take his order and taps his fingers on the brown table top nervously. A woman at the table adjacent to his looks over at him and he stills his hands awkwardly and moves to tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear.

“Jared?” A familiar voice sounds suddenly, and Jared looks up and freezes. Just his luck. He comes out to relax and... he bumps into Jensen. Who looks good - _really_ good. He's very different from the person that Jared was friends with. He's wearing a simple black shirt, blue denim jeans and black converse sneakers. Jared only knows that because he's so busy looking everywhere _but_ at Jensen's face. Eventually he has no choice but to look up and address the awkwardness before it’s perceived as rudeness.

“Uh, hi…” he says, trailing off when Jensen looks back at him with a smile. “I didn’t know that you were in L.A.”

Jensen scratches the back of his neck lightly and shrugs, “I live here now.”

That’s surprising.

Even though they haven’t spoken for three years Jared feels like he should know that. For some reason, he’s always just thought that Jensen was back in Dallas with his parents.

“That’s... that’s good,” he says slowly. Before Jensen can say anything, Jared’s order arrives and suddenly he’s sitting there with more tapas than his strict diet allows, and it seems rude of him not to invite Jensen to sit down.

“I’m actually just here to order a huge to-go order for T... for the guys, so…” Jensen sounds apologetic but Jared waves it off.

“That’s fine but there’s nothing that says you can’t sit while you wait, huh?” Jared replies. The woman across from him is starting to look interested in their conversation and he’d rather not be splashed all over US Weekly or whatever trashy magazine America reads these days.

Jensen pulls a chair from under the table reluctantly, but he takes his seat gracefully and smiles up at Jared.

“So, you did it,” he says. “Grand slam champ at twenty-three.”

There’s no bitterness, no malice. Just... _pride_ , which makes Jared feel a heavy wave of guilt. He still has that text, still looks at it sometimes and wonders if it’s too late to reply.

It is now.

“Yeah,” he says stiffly. “I did it. And uh, thanks for the text. I... I didn’t think that you kept up with tennis.”

Jensen’s smile fades and turns into an uncomfortable grimace. His hands roll his sleek black phone a few times before he sets it on the table, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Jared knows him well enough to be aware that there’s an elephant in the room that only one of them can see and that person isn’t him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He might have been a shitty friend but he still _cares_. Friendship isn’t just a switch for him, at least not friendship with Jensen.

Jensen exhales and looks at Jared head-on. His green eyes are cloudy and he looks anxious almost, like he’s about two seconds away from bolting and leaving Jared sitting here with his cooling food.

“I work with Tom Welling,” Jensen admits stiffly after a brief pause. Jared tenses up immediately and feels this intense coldness washing over him. “At first, I was just kind of interning, I guess? And then when I got my MPT he hired me and... I’ve been working with him ever since. I was there when you beat him.”

He says it so simply, like it’s just a basic, normal fact of everyday life. It’s not - at least not for Jared. His rivalry with Tom may only be heating up in public but he _knows_ the guy. Tom’s nothing but a cocky jerk who thinks that having a _junior_ Wimbledon title means that he’s cut out for the big leagues. They have a contentious history and Jensen suddenly being a part of their saga just makes things messier.

“What’s he paying you?” Jared demands to know. “I’ll double it if you come to work for me.”

Jensen snorts and begins to chuckle until he realises that Jared is serious.

“What? Jared, I can’t,” he says when he sobers up. “I... we’re building something with Tom and it would feel wrong of me to jump ship. Especially when I know that you never believed in me anyway.”

“Jensen…,” Jared starts because he’s spent enough time talking about this with Katie to know that he fucked up.

Jensen cuts him off with a dark look and Jared sits there, stunned to silence. “Don’t act like it’s not the truth. You did nothing but tell me how to be better, or how much I wasn’t doing the right thing. When I hurt my foot, it took a _year_ for me to recover. Do you even know how hard that was? How hard the previous injuries were?

“I had to sit there and watch each competition go by, watching my ranking slip and deal with all your ‘pointers’. I had to do intense rehab repeatedly. You had no idea what it was like, and I realised a long time ago that you just don’t care.”

Jared wants to deny all of it, every word, but he _can’t_. He’s been so focused on winning that he forced himself not to care but he’s _always_ believed in Jensen. The accusation stings like a deep burn but he can’t find the words to defend himself.

Perhaps there are none.

“Is that why you went to work with Tom?” Jared hears himself asking bitterly. Mentally he’s telling himself to shut the fuck up but his brain-to-mouth filter seems to be non-existent. “To get back at me for being a jerk?”

Jensen’s laugh is harsh and he stands up roughly. He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and tosses a few bills on Jared’s table. “It was nice seeing you again, Jared. What was it you said to me again? Have a nice fucking life.”

Jared watches Jensen walk away from him and he takes a deep breath and thinks, _I deserved that_.

~

_Jensen_

“He _asked_ you to come and work for him?” Tom splutters when Jensen relays his conversation with Jared. “That worthless son of a bitch.”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmurs wistfully. Part of him is still happy that he saw Jared, though. Time’s been kind to him and, yeah, okay, Jensen _still_ has a thing for him. He can’t help it. He’s one of those people that seems to have a perpetual hard-on for the first person that they ever had a _real_ crush on. There’s probably a _Popsugar_ article out there with his name stamped all over it.

Tom seems to sense that he’s conflicted because he tosses a breadstick at Jensen’s head. “Jensen, you need to let this infatuation with Padalecki go. Seriously. He’s just... a very messy person and not at all who anyone needs to be in a relationship with. _Ever._ ”

“It sounds like you’re talking from experience,” Jensen teases, because Tom’s his friend. He’d know if there was ever anything between him and Jared, right?

Wrong, judging by the look on Tom’s face.

“We were kids and we were trying to psyche each other out,” Tom explains, not even bothering to deny it. “It fizzled out after a while.”

Jensen just stares at him because he’s been working with Tom for a while now. Hell, he’s bitched about Jared, spoken about their drunken kiss and... a lot more that he’s suddenly regretting. Not once has Tom mentioned that he’s been there, done that - _literally_.

“So that’s why you guys have this _stupid_ rivalry?” Jensen spits out. “Fan-fucking-tastic. I ought to quit right now and tell you to go and fuck yourself but... I’m not Jared. And I’m not you. I don’t give up on people.”

Tom at least looks apologetic unlike Jared and his stubborn, big-headed self. Jensen feels his anger ebb away because it all makes sense now.

“Did you... _like_ him?” he asks, idly remembering what Tom said to him when he confessed to knowing Jared.

Tom shrugs. “It was an infatuation. He’d screw with me, try to throw me off my game, and I didn’t realise at first. It’s all good now. I’m just never going to be friends with him.”

It sounds like Tom is trying to downplay it, but Jensen doesn’t say anything. He’s not angry with Tom, not really.

It’s Jared.

He decides to channel that into something good. Technically, he’s only on the physio side of Tom’s set-up but he goes through some tactical pointers with Tom now and then, usually on players he remembers facing whenever Tom plays someone ranked outside of the top 100. Lower ranks don’t always mean easy wins and he thinks he’s been a benefit in that aspect.

However, the one player’s game that he knows in and out is Jared’s.

~

Jensen’s just arriving back from his morning run when he spots a tall figure hovering near his doorstep. He stops and stretches his achy ankle with a frown before he walks the rest of the way, narrowly avoiding crushing a stretch of petunias on his neighbor's front yard.

The figure turns out to be none other than Jared, and Jensen braces himself for more bullshit. It seems to be all that Jared’s good at.

“Nice quote on ESPN,” Jensen says when he’s walked up the pathway leading to his front door. “What was it? Tom’s poaching your former training partners in a desperate bid to beat you?”

Tennis players generally don’t speak badly of each other in public but Jared’s fast becoming the exception to the rule. No matter how many opinion pieces there are and no matter how many times McEnroe ‘tells’ Jared to just shut the hell up already, the media will lap it up like candy.

“That’s why I’m here, I didn’t mean for that to get out,” Jared tells him. “I came to apologise. To you and Tom.”

Jensen bristles at the mention of Tom. Their friendship hasn’t been the same ever since Tom’s confession and he’s not sure that they ever will be; Jensen blames Jared for that.

“Jared, I don’t want or need an apology from you and neither does Tom,” Jensen says calmly. “Haven’t you screwed him over enough? You got your Grand Slam, you won. Just get over it.”

Jared’s face hardens and Jensen leans back against his door. He folds his arms and waits for the nasty comment to fall from Jared’s lips.

“He told you.”

Jensen clicks his tongue twice and says, “Bingo. And that explained your little power move on me the other night. Unfortunately for you, I’m just a physical therapist, and you’ve already got one so.... I think that we’re done here.”

A car drives past them and Jensen’s suddenly aware that his ankle is beginning to throb. If he doesn’t put ice on it, he’s going to have a hard time moving later and he’s got to be at Tom’s practise session at two. He rolls it gently and finally fishes his keys out of his pocket.

“Are you okay?” Jared asks, his eyes travelling downward to look at his feet. “I never asked about your ankle…”

Jensen sighs. “So why start now?”

He unlocks the door and enters, slamming it shut before Jared can utter a comeback.

~

The one thing that Jensen’s always known about Jared is that he doesn’t give up easily.  So he’s not surprised to see Jared strolling onto the practise courts at two-thirty, halfway through Tom’s first session. He’s flanked by his team and another player called Gregor Sokolov – am average Russian who seems to be making headway nonetheless. Tom’s been on the court with another American player, Justin Hartley, and even from the stands he can hear as Jared suggests that they team up to play doubles.

“Who the fuck invited him?” Tom’s coach, Billy, mutters. Jensen shrugs even though he suspects that this partly his fault. He was the one who couldn’t have just pretended not to see Jared at that tapas bar, or refused to hear anything he had to say earlier this morning.

For the next hour, Tom and Justin play a light match with Jared and Gregor. The four of them seem to be in high spirits when they’re done, and Jensen even catches Tom and Jared talking quietly once the match ends. Tom heads indoors after that, throwing a quick wave to Jensen before Jared comes over to where Jensen’s sitting.

“I’ve decided to squash whatever beef I have with Tom,” he announces, much to the surprise of Billy who rolls his eyes.

“You know I ought to punch you in the mouth,” Billy says. “You trash Tom again and I just might.” He’s off before Jared can even muster a response, and Jensen almost laughs at the stunned look on Jared’s face. Billy’s a wiry, short man but Jensen’s seen his forehand - the dude has surprisingly good strength.

“Please don’t do that thing where you fake apologise and then start shit up again just to throw us off,” Jensen says. He could thank Jared, could pretend that they’re friends, but right now he just wants this silly feud to be over with so he can put as much distance between him and Jared as possible.

“I won’t,” Jared insist. “I promise.”

Jensen nods.

It’s a hot day and his shirt is sticking to his skin and his throat is dry but none of that makes him feel as uncomfortable as Jared’s gaze. His blue-green eyes are unreadable but somehow Jensen feels _exposed,_ like Jared’s reading his mind and seeing everything that Jensen works so hard to hide.

“I have this charity foundation thing tomorrow tonight,” Jared says suddenly. “I invited Tom and, uh, I was hoping that you’d come along.”

Jensen barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

He doesn’t doubt that Jared’s genuine about the charity work, but it’s no coincidence that it’s coming after the hatchet job that TIME did last week.

“What is this, damage control for ‘ _Tennis’ New Bad Boy’_ ,” he snaps angrily.

Jared wipes at his brow and levels Jensen with a blank look. “Yes and no. At first, it was all about getting a sponsorship deal with Nike. And then it was about me wanting to help kids who come from a similar background that I did and worse. The TIME piece was just... the push we needed to finally get the ball rolling.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and stands up. He overcorrects and ends up putting pressure on his ankle which is still sore from his run. He topples over and falls right into Jared’s strong arms which catch him before he can land awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” Jared asks worriedly when Jensen pulls himself out of the embrace quickly. He’s not. While being in contact with Jared has left Jensen with a mixture of confusion, fondness, and reawakening attraction, it’s also stressing him out; as a result, he’s been overdoing the running and… his ankle is paying the price for that.

“No,” he answers honestly. “No. I’m not.”

~

Tom forces Jensen to take the rest of the week off after the doctor determines that his ankle is sprained (thankfully there’s no ligament damage). He misses Jared’s charity event but manages to see all the glossy images online and Tom sends him a few blurry pictures. He doesn’t hear from Jared, but that’s hardly a surprise. Instead of wallowing in his conflicted thoughts, he Skype chats with his parents and has a _Lethal Weapon_ marathon with Chris. By the time Saturday rolls around, he’s starting to get cabin fever and he’s bored out of his mind. His ankle is still sore and Jensen knows better than to try and leave the house on it, so he does his exercises and walks around slowly. Finally, everything catches up with him and he slumps down on the couch with a warm beer in his hand.

He likes to pretend sometimes.

Pretend that his ankle is fine, and that he could still make it if he wanted to. Sometimes he tells himself that if he’d pushed himself, maybe he would be a pretty damn good player.

Each time he stares down at the pale skin and bone and knows that he’s telling himself a lie.

Jensen is well and truly lost inside his head when the annoying chime of his doorbell sounds. He groans inwardly because he isn’t in the mood for company and he just sat down. It sounds again and he heaves himself up off his soft green couch and slowly limps over to the door. He doesn’t bother to check who it is, just flings the door open so that he can tell the person to go away.

His entire body tenses when he realises that said person is _Jared_.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Jared says quickly, as if he’s afraid that Jensen’s going to slam the door in his face again. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

Jensen deliberates briefly because some company would be nice, anything to stop him from climbing the walls. However, he’s not sure that awkwardness with Jared would be any better than replaying his injury over and over.

“I miss our friendship,” Jared continues, in that same tone, like Jensen’s a judge that he desperately needs to away. “And... I could do with a friend right now.”

The pure _need_ in his voice makes something in Jensen break. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t really care past the fact that he feels wanted in some way. Wanted by the one person that’s _always_ going have an influence him - be it good or bad.

There’s no way that he can refuse to be the friend that Jared needs. He's already slammed the door in Jared's face once before, he can't bring himself to do it again.

# “30”

_“So Jim, what do you think the chances are of Padalecki adding to his Grand Slam haul this year? He was close in Australia last year, but it's been three years since he won his maiden French Open. What's next for him?”_

“ _Good question, Rob. We all thought he'd be on top of his game by now, but it just hasn't happened. You hear all of these stories about his attitude and you have to wonder. The fact is that, he hasn't really set the world alight and maybe he doesn't have what it takes_.”

Jared’s watching the other Indian Wells Masters semi-final attentively, hands at his mouth as he bites his nails subconsciously. He won the first semi not long ago and now he just has to wait and see if he’s playing Tom or Justin Hartley in the final. Much fanfare has been made about how Tom and Justin have trained for years but that’s just media hype. Tom’s the better player and he’s currently two-sets up. Jared’s nervous because Tom’s playing so well and he's worried that he won’t be able to beat him. So far, he’s failed to add to his French Open title. He’s twenty-six now and already the tennis pundits have been calling him a one-trick pony. Apparently, he’ll never reach the same heights he was at three years ago because he’s stubborn and runs through coaches at an alarming rate. The sad thing is that they’re right and Jared’s not sure how to break out of the rut he’s in.

Chad’s managed to hook him up with a successful coach called Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who won both the Australian and US Open back in the Eighties and Jared’s hoping that this partnership _finally_ works because Welling’s been on fire over the past few years. He’s won Wimbledon twice and reached the Australian Open final last year. In comparison, the furthest Jared’s come to a slam is retiring against Nadal during their quarter final at Wimbledon two years ago and everyone was surprised that he made it that far.

“Dude, why are you so agitated?”

Jared turns to face Jensen who’s sitting next to him on the couch in his large hotel room, with his legs propped up on the coffee table and a bowl of chips in his lap. Technically, Jensen should be at Tom’s match but he was fired three weeks earlier when Tom threw a huge hissy fit and decided that Jared was his enemy again. The fact that they may or may not have accidentally hooked up might have something to do with it, but Jared dares not tell Jensen. He can’t afford to lose his best friend right now. Not over Tom.

Speaking of Tom, Jared turns back to the screen and curses under his breath when he sees that Tom’s _finally_ broken Hartley’s serve.

“I’m not,” he says feebly, ignoring Jensen when he snorts.

Their friendship has been rocky but they’re close for the most part. They watch matches together, they hang out and Jensen’s always ready to provide Jared with an ear when he needs one.

However, with the media being what it is, there’s been a dozen conflict of interest articles. The most current was accompanied by an extremely misleading picture of Jared helping a drunken Jensen out of a cab. It’s what set Tom off, and now Jared’s stuck trying to figure out how to beat the guy _and_ get him to re-hire Jensen.

“I spoke to Tom today before the game, and he told me that they’ve hired a permanent replacement for me,” Jensen tells him abruptly. Jared’s not really asked about it and Jensen hasn’t said much so this sudden revelation is a bit of a surprise. “What is it with you two? Why do you screw each other up so much?”

There’s something lingering in Jensen’s voice beneath the confusion but Jared can’t discern what it is.

He looks up and cringes inwardly when Hartley smacks Tom’s second serve wide to make it 30-0.

Jared doesn’t love Tom or anything crazy like that. Hell, he’s only had one serious relationship since he turned pro, and Sandy was far too good for him. He let her go because it was the right thing to do. Tom is dangerous and when Jared’s around him, _bad_ things happen, like too much partying, too much drink. And he’s not entirely sure that Tom hasn’t been playing mind games with him all along. All the fanfare about them repairing their rocky relationship was good press for both of them but it was Jared’s game that suffered.

“He fired you because he thinks that I’m screwing you.”

The words escape before he can stop them, and suddenly everything goes still. There’s no crinkling of the chips in the bowl and he can feel how tense Jensen’s become.

“And? Just tell him that we’re not,” Jensen replies. He swings his legs off the table and sets the bowl down. “And even if we are, what is he, some jealous boyfriend?”

Jared bites at his lip and he doesn’t answer. Okay, _maybe_ this thing with Tom is a lot more complicated than he’s made it out to be.

Even though he can feel Jensen's eyes on him, Jared keeps his own gaze on the screen.

“You slept with him,” Jensen intones eventually, his voice low and cold. “Multiple times. Fuck, is that why you’ve been playing so badly? You’re... hung up over him?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “I’m not hung up over him, I’m just... wondering what the fuck I’m doing, Jensen. I was supposed to be this huge tennis player, win multiple slams and break records but I seem to be heading down a familiar path. Has-been. One-slam wonder. Failure. Tom.... he gets that ambition and... I don’t know, it was nice to have someone who wants the same things I do.”

It's not the truth.

Tom's disposable, an avenue that Jared takes whenever he feels like being reckless, but he can't admit that. Not when Jensen is looking at him like he's the worst person in the world.

Jensen’s standing up now and grabbing his jacket. He’s muttering to himself but Jared can’t make out a word.

“Jared, you’re my friend and Tom’s a friend too, so I’m just going to say this to you,” he says when he finally looks up at him. “You might act like you don’t miss your parents or you don’t need anyone, but you do. You’re _sensitive_ and that’s just how God made you. Just like how I could have been telling Tom how to beat you all these years but I didn’t. I’m not that guy and neither are you.”

Jared shrugs hopelessly and asks, “So what am I supposed to do?”

“You play him at his own game but do it the _right_ way,” Jensen answers. “And you kick his ass in the final.”

He leaves before Jared can say anything else.

~

It takes almost every single iota of energy that he has but Jared wins at Indian Wells _and_ gives Tom the brush off when he shows up at his hotel room at two in the morning. Jensen’s right about Tom, he doesn’t care about anything past winning. He’s what Jared used to be before he realised that life wasn’t a happy book of wishes that came true. Injuries happened, low confidence happened and... life itself happened.

After he reaches his apartment, fresh off the high of winning another tournament, Jared calls his parents for the first time in months.

The call lasts ten minutes and it’s mostly pleasantries, but he doesn’t miss the way his mom’s voice hitches when he says that he’ll call again in a couple of weeks.

Next, he tries to call Jensen but it merely goes to voicemail. Normally he wouldn’t think anything of it but he hasn’t seen or heard from him since his admission about Tom, and he knows that Jensen’s probably disappointed. Jared’s disappointed in himself but so damn fucking ecstatic that he finally _beat_ Tom. After Jensen left his hotel room, he called in Jeff and they watched the videos they compiled of Tom’s past matches until their eyes were straining; he crammed every morsel of information he could, locked each snippet away until the game itself.

He won 6-3, 6-1, 6-0.

All he’s wanted to do since then is thank Jensen, but he’s starting to realise that he’s fucked up somehow.

“Jared, no offence but why are you _always_ chasing after this guy?” Chad says when he’s over at Jared’s place for dinner. “First it was that he was working for Tom, then he was your long lost best friend, and then you get him fired because Tom thought you were fucking him. On top of that, _you_ were the one fucking Tom. And you want this guy to sit there and let himself be a prize to be won as part of you and Tom’s pissing contest? He was right to leave.”

Jared pauses to slowly process all of that but... Chad’s right. Neither of them were fair on Jensen and he’s right to be giving them a wide berth. Still. Jared needs someone in his corner right now. Someone that he’s not paying. It hits him then that Chad said _leave_. He didn’t tell Chad the particulars of his last conversation with Jensen so it’s an odd way to phrase it…. unless…

“What do you mean by _leave_?” Jared asks.

Chad shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat. “He accepted a job in Spain. They have world-class tennis academies there and he might have been head-hunted by one of them.”

Jared practically growls at Chad. Head-hunted his _ass_.

“This was you, wasn’t it?” he snarls. He throws his burger down onto the plate, the juicy beef suddenly cold and bitter. It’s only the fact that he can’t afford another injury right now that stops him from punching Chad in the face.

Chad shrugs nonchalantly. “You know what, yes, it was me. I might be a douche but I’ve watched that guy bounce between you and Welling for years. He deserves better and I need _you_ to be focused. That means no _Jensen_ and keeping your hands off Welling’s fucking dick, alright? You _need_ to win a Slam this year, man.”

Jared lets his anger ebb away because Chad is right again. He needs to win another Slam. And he needs to make Tom pay for taking away his only real friend in L.A.

~

Jeff hires this fancy nutritionist for Jared sometime after his Wimbledon quarter-final exit against Tsonga, and slowly they begin work building up his muscle mass. In the past, he’s always been tall and gangly with a wicked forehand, but the stats show that his serve speed has slowed in the past few years. Jeff thinks that Jared needs more upper strength to accommodate for his lack of youth and agility, and Jared goes with it. The next target is Flushing Meadows, and even Chad’s been saying that an American winning the US Open would be huge right now. So far Tom’s had bad luck with that one, but this year he’s proving to be the player to beat.

Jared throws himself into his training and trying to improve his ATP rankings. Currently he’s fifth behind Andy Murray, Tom, Nadal, and Federer but he’s hoping to pass Murray at least. Nadal and Federer have been breath-taking in the past few years, picking up more slams than the rest of them combined, so Jared decides not to even think about surpassing them. Jeff’s been talking to him about how it’s better to just _enjoy_ his game instead of obsessing over winning and Jared’s finally listening.

He listens a lot these days.

To his parents, when they explain that they were only trying to help him when they invested his money, and to Tom when he comes to apologise about how messy things got between them. He even listens to Chad rabbit on about endorsements and sponsorships, even when he ends up doing a bizarre Korean commercial that requires him to wear oversized bunny ears.

He listens to everyone except for the one person that he can’t reach.

~

Jared’s never really thought much of elevators. 

Except for the part where he’s now trapped in one with _Tom Welling_.

They’re staying in the same hotel for the US Open and, judging by Tom’s white polo and red shorts, he’d also been on his way to practise. Jared's muscles are tense and all he wants to do is hit the gym for a light treadmill workout.

“Just our luck, huh,” Tom says into the warm elevator. There’s nothing in his blue eyes to indicate that he’s feeling as uncomfortable as Jared is.

“Yeah,” Jared mutters. He jabs the emergency button again - just to be sure that someone _is_ working on getting them out of here.

Tom watches him silently for a while before he shifts and sets his gym bag on the floor.

“Have you heard from Jensen lately?” he asks, like he has any right to know. They might be cool now but part of Jared holds Tom responsible for the fact that Jensen’s still in Spain and _still_ giving him the silent treatment.

“I hear about him through second-hand information my agent gives me,” Jared mutters bitterly. “All thanks to you.”

Tom chuckles dryly and leans his head against the sticky warm metal of the elevator. “Wasn't it you that broke his heart?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because he was so hung up on me and not at all bothered that you fired him because I stopped fucking you.”

Tom doesn't respond immediately; he just levels Jared with a long, hard stare.

Eventually all he replies with is, “You're an idiot if you don't know how Jensen feels about you.”

Jared's instantly confused because Jensen's dated guys and he hung out with him and Sandy on numerous occasions with no issue. Apart from one drunken kiss, they've always had a platonic relationship. He has no idea why Tom is stirring the pot _again_.

He shakes his head and swallows hard. “I'm not going to let you do this. I'm not going to let you screw with my head.”

There's a whirring sound but the elevator remains stationary, keeping him trapped with the one person that pushes all of his buttons in the wrong way.

“I'm not trying to mess with you, I'm trying to help you,” Tom insists. He scratches at his stubble and exhales quietly. “You're always running from something, Jared. Connections, commitments, family. I have no idea why. You were like that before I even decided to fuck around with you, so you can't pin that on me. You _can't_.”

Jared's endured enough sessions with Katie to know that Tom’s right. Growing up, he had had a hard time of it. His father was the victim of a small Ponzi scheme in their small town, and while normally that would elicit a degree of sympathy, his family became pariahs. Not because people were judgmental, but because many of them lost money due to his Dad's recommendations and referrals. It wasn't anyone's fault, but at school he was singled out. Targeted for being Padalecki’s kid. His sister would come home crying, his brother remained sullen and moody, and Jared?

He played tennis.

It started off as some after school club his mom would drop him off before she went to her second job, but grew into much more. He played to drown out the noise and the chatter. Initially, it started because he needed to whack something so hard that he wouldn't be tempted to lay hands on any of the fuckers in his classes. It was an outlet. One that he ended up being good at. One that turned his family's fortunes around. Part of the reason he fell out with his parents is the investment they made with his money. It didn't work out and it was too much of a reminder.

It made Jared feel like he'd lost something and he hates that.

He hates losing.

Winning isn't just this thing that he hopes to do, it's his _life._ Each win is a fuck you to anyone who tried to mess with him.

Or rather, it was until he realised just how convoluted his thoughts have been.

“Maybe you're right about me,” Jared tells Tom, “but you're wrong about Jensen. He wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for me. Not after how awful I was to him.”

Tom shrugs. “Love makes people stupid. That's just how it is. And maybe you were terrible to him but, from the way he tells it, you had some good times when you weren't focused on being the next Bjorn Borg.”

Jared smiles a little because they did have fun at Winterfield. Being a part of the tennis program was intense, but the community aspect was something Jared missed when he turned pro. He'd gone from having a support group and _Jensen_ to having to start from nothing: find a trainer, find a physio, coaching staff, travel money for tournaments, sponsorship deals and so on. He’d had to grow up a little earlier than he needed to, and that was hard without a shoulder to lean on.

“I'm not worthy of anyone's love,” Jared says quietly. “Even with Sandy, I just couldn't be myself. I used her as my emotional punching bag for way too long. And you... You're a mistake that I keep on making.”

Something flickers in Tom's eyes and Jared vaguely remembers something Katie said about choosing his words carefully.

“You say mistake and I say that what I felt for you screwed me up for a long time,” Tom replies, his voice stiff and awkward. “I... I liked you when we first met. It was at a small tournament and you lost your hotel key so I let you stay with me.”

Jared lets his insides freeze slowly because he doesn't want to remember this. Not now.

“I thought that I'd made a friend for life and maybe more, but...The person I met that day has eluded me ever since and I've finally stopped chasing him,” Tom continues. “He cost me my friend. He's cost me a lot of time and, most of all, he's not real. That guy was just a mirage, and I hope to hell that Jensen _never_ gives you a chance.”

Jared's barely managed to process half of that when the tinny intercom speakers crackles and bursts to life.

“ _Alright guys, the engineer says that the elevator should be up and running in five. Sit tight._ ”

It's the longest five minutes of his life.

~

_Jensen_

__  


Spain is hot. Given that he lived in Los Angeles for years he should be used to it, but the cloying heat gets him every time he steps out of a building. Xavier, his ex-boyfriend/roommate, always finds it hilarious, but Jensen knows that deep down inside, he misses home. Living in Madrid is great but he doesn't feel right. His contract is up in three months and he's already been sounding out positions back in L.A, much to Chris’ delight. He's half scared that Chris will finally round up Jared and Tom and kick their asses the way he's been threatening to. Jensen keeps having to warn Chris that he can't bail him out from another country.

“Jensen?” Jensen looks up from where he's been getting some much-needed shade on the balcony. Xavier pokes his head in and waves his iPad around.

“Yeah,” he says. He keeps it short because the last thing they did before they left for work was argue and, when he leaves Madrid, he's also leaving Xavier.

“You got a message from the one and only Jared Padalecki,” Xavier says with something akin to excitement in his voice.

It's part of the reason they didn't work out. While Jensen was all about the tennis and teaching, Xavier is all about showing up to random parties that Nadal _might_ be at. At first it was fun to get everything off his mind and forget about the fact that he ended up in the middle of Tom and Jared's game of tug-of-war. However, non-stop partying isn't really an option when he has to wake up at the crack of dawn and get to the academy. So now he and Xavier sort of co-exist in their small apartment as _friends_ and nothing else. He's never mentioned anything about his not-so-secret crush on Jared, so he plays it cool.

“What's it say?” he asks.

Xavier tosses him the landline they never use and ducks back into the apartment, his voice getting airy and faint. “Something about being sorry? I didn't know that you knew him like that.”

Jensen rolls his eyes because it drives him nuts when Xavier starts talking and then moves further away like he thinks Jensen has super hearing. “I went to college with him. We talk.”

There's some shuffling and then Xavier is back, something unreadable in his hazel eyes.

“You should turn that talking into a career opportunity,” he says. “But yeah, I think the message was more about this…” This time the iPad makes a re-appearance, and Jared's face appears via the form of some kind of sordid TMZ article that reads _The Dramatic Love Triangle That's Behind The Welling & Padalecki feud!_

“Oh, god,” Jensen recoils and buries his head in his hands. “Those two don't know how to take a hint. Never mind leaving the country, I need to leave the planet.”

Xavier tuts and rubs a soothing hand through Jensen's hair. “Look, from the little you've told me, there's only one person who would sell this to the papers.”

He pulls away from Xavier's touch.

“Tom.” Jensen doesn't even need to contemplate it, it's obvious. The question is _why_?

Later that night, Jensen's scrolling through his phone when he comes across an article about the ‘ _dramatic love triangle_ ’. He realises that he never actually read it before, and he has to scramble to find the original article. It’s got nothing to do with him. In fact, it’s all about Jared and Tom’s clash over a relatively unknown model they’ve supposedly been linked with. That Jared’s given no comment and Tom held a full-blown conference to play down his role in the feud tells Jensen all that he needs to know.

Both Jared and Tom are currently playing at the BMW Open and Jensen can see that this is another pathetic attempt on Tom’s part to throw Jared off his game. He’s been doing it for years, usually through planted information and, for the first time, Jensen can see how truly wrong it is. That he was ever an unintentional participant makes him sick because Tom’s mind games _worked_.

Tom knows that Jared could easily beat him and he’ll do anything to stop that.

Call Jensen a coward, but he decides to stay out of it.

~

Jared wins the BMW open and his face is splashed all over the tennis pages. From the interviews that Jensen watches, Jared carefully dodges mentioning Tom, who’d gone down in the quarterfinals, and keeps all answers banal and polite. Jensen suspects that Chad’s finally invested in some decent media training because the Jared of old would have retaliated by now.

Speaking of Chad, Jensen’s surprised to receive an email from the man that simply reads: _call him_. There’s no explanation, nothing else but those two words. Obviously, he means _Jared_ but Jensen doesn’t think he can do it. Jared’s been slowly getting better at his game, although, he could still go further. However, Jeffrey Dean Morgan is a formidable coach and he’s clearly going to take Jared to new heights.

Sometime later, Jensen receives a parcel from Tom containing a pair of sneakers from his new line and some other custom made tennis wear. Jensen snorts as he reads the flimsy handwritten note that says, _are u still mad @ me?_ The thing is that he’s not angry with Tom or Jared.

He’s just tired.

Tennis might begin with love, but Jensen’s not going to let a past infatuation define who he is. He’s not going to end up like Tom. If they spend any more time in each other’s presence, that’s what’s going to happen. It was too easy to blame Jared for how messed up they were, he blamed Jared for not being understanding, for ditching him and it didn’t get him anywhere. Tom blamed Jared for screwing him over, but at the end of the day, they’re all adults.

Sometimes people just need to move on.

~

Jared finally contacts Jensen directly during a Davis Cup weekend. Tom is out injured and Jared wins his game, not that Jensen keeps a close eye on things...okay, so _maybe_ he does. It doesn’t mean anything. What means something is the email he gets from Jared. It’s short and simple, just a basic ‘ _hi, it’s been a long time. Hope Spain is treating you well.’_

For whatever reason, a dam bursts within Jensen and he finds himself sitting there for hours, thinking. He thinks about how he fell in love with Jared before he knew what love was. He thinks about how disappointed he feels whenever Jared loses, about how much he wishes things were different.

He wishes that Jared hadn’t been so damn difficult back when they were younger. That he’d never met Tom. That he’d just stayed in Dallas with his parents.

Most of all he wishes that he’d never fallen in love in the first place.

Tennis might begin with love but sometimes it ends in disappointment.

For Jensen, ‘sometimes’ is beginning to feel like a lifetime.

# “40”

“ _It would be incorrect to say that Padalecki has fulfilled his potential, but he's got three slams, a ton of ATP tournament wins and I actually think he's done well over the past few years. Obviously, he'll be looking at getting the Career Slam now and I think he has a good chance this year. Fingers crossed.”_

__

Jared fucks up his knee badly during a practice session. It's been bothering him for a while, and he's been icing it and taking whatever he can without violating the doping regulations, but it takes Jeffrey quitting right there on the spot to get him to realise the gravity of the situation. He can't play like this. Not without wasting his and everyone's time. They give him crutches and a date for an operation and send him home. He sits there in the dark, stunned. This was supposed to be his year. _Again_. Except now he's out for at least six months and he's going to fall in the rankings, going to undo all the hard work he's done over the last few years.

It's not fair.

Not only that, he feels like it's somehow his fault. That's what he used to believe; that injuries were a result of carelessness. Of course, he knows differently now. He truly gets it because playing again after a long period is just the half glass full way of looking at. With his glass empty, Jared might not even play again. That scares him more than anything because tennis is his _life_. Knowing that he might not play again destroys him and, for a brief moment, he considers just packing it all in before someone can take it away from him.

He's got his French Open, the Wimbledon trophy that he finally got his hands on last year, and the Australian Open from this year when he beat Djokovic in four sets. It's not the record breaking that he thought he'd do, but it's still an achievement. It still makes him a damn good player. 

Despite that, there's still one thing that he was wants: the career slam. He wants his name to go down as a winner of all four major slams, Australia, Wimbledon, French and the elusive US Open. Tom might have won five slams, but he's never done that. The career slam has eluded him all throughout his career, and Jared is desperate to get there first.

Or at least he _was_ until this happened.

~

The operation is successful and his surgeon says that everything looks promising. With hard work and a lot of physical rehabilitation, he should be back on the court in six months.

“He also said that there's a chance that I might struggle to adjust,” Jared snaps when Chad reads out the standard press release he's been preparing. “I know that all you care about is _money_ and whatever the media cares about, but right now I just need a friend.”

To his credit, Chad places his cell down onto Jared's coffee table and grimaces sympathetically. Jared knows that he’s asking a lot of Chad but it’s not like they can go out and have a good time like they normally would.

“I'm sorry, man, I am, but you know that I'm not good at this emotional stuff,” Chad says. He loosens his tie and places his left leg over his right. “And I need to make sure that you have something to get back to when you _do_ return.”

Jared rolls his eyes at Chad’s confident tone. “Surely you mean _if_?”

Chad shakes his head and for the first time since Jared met him, he looks so serious that it’s almost scary. “Not if, _when_. When I first met you, you told me that you wouldn’t give up until you got what you wanted. Stick to that.”

Jared huffs out a gentle laugh because when they first met, everyone thought he was an asshole. He’d like to think that he’s changed since then.

“I’m not the same person,” he tells Chad honestly. His drive is different. What he wants and what he can do are now two very different things and he’s accepting it slowly. His body takes longer to recuperate and his mental strength is harder to maintain. It’s hard to stay confident when it feels like your body is giving up on you. He’s over thirty now, and he’s not as fast as he was, not as athletic and all over that was affecting his game even before the injury.

There’s been a myriad of ‘ _Is Jared Padalecki finished?’_ articles, discussions and occasionally, the odd social media post. Normally he stays away from it all, but when you’re stuck recovering, there isn’t much room for anything else. It’s a constant battle between making sure that he’s not left behind and remaining upbeat.

“You’re not the same person,” Chad agrees, his voice cutting into Jared’s reverie. Chad’s cell phone buzzes loudly but it’s ignored. Jared snorts to himself. This must be a deep conversation if it’s keeping Chad away from his precious phone. “You’ve changed. However, changing doesn’t mean that what you want has changed. You want - _need -_ that career slam. And you’re going to get it.”

Jared shrugs, words suddenly eluding him. He just hopes that Chad is right.

~

Chad drops off the grid after that conversation in Jared’s apartment. At first there are emails and texts about looking for a new team, especially a physical therapist to help him get back. That’s followed by short text messages confirming that he’s still looking. Eventually it trickles down to silence and Jared’s left working with a basic physical therapist and attending his doctor’s appointments on his own. The surgeon who operated on his knee assures him that everything is healing nicely but he’s still not allowed to put pressure on it.

“You have to wait at least two months before you can begin light to moderate activity,” Dr. Shapiro says. He’s wearing thin-framed glasses, carefully peering over a chart, and all Jared wants to do is grab it and shove it in the man’s face.

“It’s been six weeks already,” he snaps. “Are you telling me that I can’t even start walking on it?”

Dr. Shapiro sets the chart down and removes his glasses. “I’m only giving you my professional opinion, Mr. Padalecki, but you’re welcome to consult with your team.”

That stops Jared cold, because right now he has no one. There’s no team. Just him. All the bridges that he’s burned now lie in a heap of rubble in front of him and he can sit here and feel sorry for himself, or... he can write his own destiny.

He chooses the latter.

~

Jared manages to contact his old trainer at Winterfield and flies there on Monday evening, taking a red-eye from L.A. to Boston. The sports department agree to let him use their equipment and train in return for him helping some of the aspiring players. At first Jared’s reluctant because he’s really got to focus on himself but - after some consideration - he decides that maybe he could learn a thing or two from these up and coming players. The game has changed since he started out and part of remaining successful is an ability to adapt.

So, he listens to these kids and tries to guide them as best as he can. He works hard to regain his fitness and starts doing some light practise again.

He even befriends the faculty administrator Aldis Hodge, whose interest in tennis is so fleeting that Jared finds it refreshing.

“You better invite me to one of your poolside parties, man, that’s all I’m saying,” Aldis says when Jared’s packing up his stuff to leave. His knee is doing much better now, but there’s still a lot of work to be done. If he’s going to be in time for the US Open, he really needs a team _fast_. Now, a coach from Winterfield is willing to take a brief sabbatical to help him but Jared feels like he needs a fresh pair of eyes to help him break whatever hold that’s stopping him from achieving what he wants.

He tries to get into contact with Jeff, but gives up after lawyers get involved and threaten to leak a bunch of stuff that doesn’t paint Jared in the best light.

“Do you think that I’m an asshole?” Jared asks Aldis suddenly, his hands stilling above his duffel bag. They’re in the apartment he’s been renting and Aldis is sprawled on his couch with an open bottle of Corona in front of him.

Aldis frowns. “Let’s just say that you have your moments. I will say that you’re not as bad as the media made you out to be. All of the scandalous tennis talk doesn’t seem so bad when I’m sitting here and having a normal conversation with you.”

He can tell that Aldis is curious about the media storms and why Jared seems to find himself in them constantly, and he figures, what the heck, he might as well tell someone.

“I was in a really messed up relationship with Tom Welling,” he finds himself admitting. “The kind where he liked me more than I liked him, and the kind where he didn’t handle rejection very well. When you’re a top player like him, anyone will buy your story, regardless of whether it’s true.”

Aldis practically spits out his beer, “Wait, you’re _gay_?” Jared shrugs, because he doesn’t know. Gay, bi, straight, all that’s ever mattered to him is _tennis_.

“I am what I am,” he replies with a wry smile. “And I’m finally realising that I’ve hurt a lot of people. My parents, _Tom_ , Jensen... I guess I just feel like maybe this isn’t the person I’m supposed to be.”

“So, what, you wanna retire?” Aldis asks. He scratches at his chin and sits up, like Jared’s suddenly extremely more interesting than whatever show he’s been half-watching on the bright television. “And who is _Jensen_? I’ve never heard that name come up.”

“Never?” Jared asks, knowing quite well that he’s never brought it up. That’s one wound that he’s not even going to tend to. He’s just going to let it bleed because he deserves it.

Aldis shakes his head. “Never. But judging by your expression when you said his name, he means a lot to you.”

He does, and Jared’s not going to deny that. He’s not going to admit it either.

“All I care about now is finding a good team to help me get ready in time for the US Open,” Jared says through gritted teeth because Chad is _still_ blowing him off and he’s not in the mood to go through the task of finding a new agent.

“Oh, speaking of that, there was a guy looking for you at WF earlier?” Aldis says. “Said his name was Chad or something. I asked if he wanted to leave a message but all he said was, ‘Tell him to get his ass back to L.A.’ I figured that he’d called you. I mean, you did just decide to go back yesterday?”

Jared snorts because Chad is so fired once the US Open is done. The only reason he’s heading back now is because he needs to be visible for the Grand Slam season. Australia might be out of the way but the French Open is next month, and Wimbledon is soon after. Jared needs to be there to scope out the competition _and_ prepare himself to get back onto the court. The latter is harder than it seems. With each major injury, stepping back onto the grass or clay, whatever surface, is always the hardest part. The self-doubt, the fear of getting hurt - it can ruin matches and Jared’s keen to try out a few of the smaller tournaments first. At the very least, he’s aiming for the Monte Carlo Masters.

This time it isn’t about beating Tom, or trying to show the world that he’s a great player. It’s about taking a series of small steps and just _enjoying_ his game.

Win or lose, Jared’s world won’t end. His pride might be dented and his ego severely bruised, but he’s a fighter.

Fighters never give up.

~

Two days after Jared arrives in L.A., he touches base with Chad and discovers that he’s got a new trainer. The name that Chad rattles over is generic but he knows that the person must at least be qualified. Soon, the other spots are filled, medical, nutrition, even Katie agrees to work with him hands-on for a while. For the first time in his career, Jared feels at ease with himself and he busies himself with his weight exercises until he finally meets up with his trainer.

On that morning, he grabs a plain black Henley shirt and sweatpants, with the assumption that they’ll spend an hour discussing what they hope to achieve, go through his knee troubles, and determine if he can begin practicing without the brace his surgeon insisted that he wear. If things don’t go well, he’ll just hit the gym and go it alone until Chad gets his lazy ass off his phone and finds him someone else.

With that in mind, he catches a cab to the hotel where the meeting is set up and allows himself to be directed to the conference room. He’s about twenty minutes early, so he sits there and waits for Chad to show up. He’s in the middle of catching up on some of his emails when the door swings open and…. Jensen walks in.

Jared freezes and tried to make sense of what's happening. From the wide-eyed expression on his face, Jensen is clearly doing the same thing. It’s been a good two years since they last laid eyes on each other and there’s an electric ripple when their gazes meet. Jared feels his heart start to race and thinks, _damn_. His conversation with Aldis dances on the edge of his mind but he shoves it down. He can’t afford to get twisted up in his feelings. Not now.

“Hi, Jensen,” he says casually. He lifts a hand to gesture for Jensen to sit down but then he remembers that he’s here to meet someone else.

Unless...

With his facial features now smoothened out, Jensen doesn’t even flinch, he just rolls his eyes and says, “I’m going to _kill_ Chad. I am not going to get in the middle of another pissing contest with you and Tom. No. Uh-uh. Never.”

Between Jensen turning to leave and trying to make sense of this, all Jared can do is call out, “Wait! What does Chad have to do with you being here?”

The conference room is a dull grey, right down from to walls and carpet. Jared can’t help wishing that they were having this conversation somewhere else. He’s sitting at the end of the long table furthest away from the door and it feels like there’s a gulf between them.

Jensen turns slowly and starts to eye Jared suspiciously. “He sold me a line about a young American player who was just turning pro, the kid needed a trainer and he thought that I might be interested now that I’m not just a PT. I’ve been coaching here and there since I got back to the States. Even worked with JDM for a few months. Boy, did he have some horror stories about you.”

Jared can barely conceal his snort because Jeff is just as stubborn as he is, if not more. In the end, they were incompatible. An unsuitable mixture of ego, bravado, and strong personality.

“Chad sold you a line?” Jared asks instead, because he’s not here to dwell on the past. He’s here to look to the future.

Jensen takes a step closer to table and nods slowly. “I guess so. I signed a contract and everything, but... my meeting with my brand-new client appears to be a meeting with you.”

Jared stares at him. It takes a second for him to understand and… _oh_.

“Look, I’ll tell Chad to tear it up and you can just forget about it. That’s not fair on you.”

“I know it isn’t,” Jensen snaps, “But the contract is pretty airtight. If I pull out for any reason, I am forbidden to work with another professional player for six months. In any capacity.”

Jared’s busy trying to comprehend Jensen’s words when his phone sounds. He picks it up and glances at it briefly; it’s a text from Chad.

 _Don’t fuck this up_.

“I’m sure you can get out of it _somehow_?” Jared says, because the last thing he wants is to hurt Jensen in any way.

Wait.

What?

 _Professionally_ , Jared tells himself. He meant that in a professional sense. Or a wholly platonic sense.

The kind of platonic that comes with the occasional bout of heart fluttering and shocking realisation.

Jensen gives him a cold look, “You know damn well that I can’t. You know, I cannot believe that you would do this to me. Are you really that desperate to beat Tom?”

“No!” Jared practically yells. His mind is racing and stuck somewhere between _kill Chad_ and _say anything to make him stay_. “What I want is to make the US Open and... you’re good, Jensen. From what I hear, you’re a damn good trainer. ‘Course, I already knew that. Who was it that helped me with my forehand?”

Being back at Winterfield helped Jared remember a lot of things. How Jensen patiently did extra sessions with him and helped with his forehand, his second serve, almost everything that he could think of. Yet Jared kept trying to lecture Jensen back then without recognising his own flaws. Jared would make a shitty teacher, but Jensen? He's kind of perfect at it.

“I wouldn't be the player I was today if it wasn't for you,” Jared tells Jensen honestly. “You're the only person that I've ever listened to and I _need_ you.”

It's the most honest that Jared's been in years and, surprisingly, it feels right.

Jensen looks unsure but after a few seconds he huffs and shakes his head. “Fine. I'll help you. But only because I hope that getting this career slam will put an end to your beef with Tom.”

Jared hasn't even really spoken to Tom since Jensen initially left. They keep it amicable in public, but in private? Jared doesn't acknowledge him and vice versa. Of course, if Tom hears that Jared’s on the mend, - and he will, it’s pretty much just a matter of _when_ \- there’s nothing to say that he won’t start selling more shitty stories to the gossip blogs and websites. Either way, he’s past all of that. His time at Winterfield has helped him to see that at the end of the day, tennis really does begin with love. Love of the game. Not winning but _playing_ , and all Jared wants is to go out there and enjoy himself.

Sure, he also wants to go out there and _win,_ but he can be focused on winning and having fun at the same time. He knows that now.

“I’m not going to go tit for tat with Tom this time, I promise,” Jared insists, although he can tell that Jensen’s clearly not going to buy a word that he says.

“Your promises don’t really hold that much weight with me anymore,” Jensen retorts, confirming Jared’s suspicions. “I’ll see you tomorrow at my training center. I’ll email Chad the details.”

Just like that he turns to leave, and suddenly Jared can’t let that happen.

“Wait,” he calls out, hating the note of panic in his voice. The last time Jensen walked out of a door, Jared didn’t see him again.

Jensen stops and looks at Jared expectantly.

“I’ve missed you... I know that Tom and I were instrumental in you leaving, but I never meant to hurt you or… drag you into our shit. So, I’m sorry for that.”

Jensen doesn’t reply immediately, he just looks at Jared long and hard. There seems to be a question in his bright green eyes but Jared doesn’t know what it is, let alone the _answer_.

“Whatever, Jared,” Jensen says eventually before he turns on his heel and exits the conference room swiftly. Jared exhales deeply and leans back in his seat. He drums his fingers on the table in a desperate attempt to expel his nervous energy but it doesn’t work. He feels awkward, like he can’t breathe, and he’s taken back to those hazy nights with Tom when all he wanted to do was just be _free_ ; to not have a huge weight on his shoulders.

Jared almost groans to himself when he realises that there’s only one person he can call.

~

Katie is no longer a sports psychologist, but a fitness and wellness coach to the stars. Jared just stares at her bewilderedly when she explains it all to him.

In the end, he has to cut off her ying and yang talk and simply ask, “Can you just, put your psychologist hat on and _talk_ to me?”

Katie frowns at him, but she pulls on her sports jacket and shuts her laptop. “This is the first time you’ve _voluntarily_ come to me. I heard that you’re aiming to be back on court for Flushing Meadows. Is that what this is about? You’re afraid that you won’t make it?”

“N-no, well, _yes_ , but that’s not it,” Jared replies shakily. “Let’s just say that there’s this guy and I hurt him a lot, over a certain period, and then he went away. And now he’s back and he hates me. How do I get him to _not_ hate me?”

Jared is aware that he sounds like a regressed teenager but words have never been his forte. He’s only ever been good at _one_ thing in his life and now he’s encountered a situation where it’s not enough. If his feelings for Jensen are what they think they are, then being Jared Padalecki, tennis superstar, will _never_ be enough. Even Sandy got tired of it all after a while.

“You’re talking about Jensen, right?” Katie says in an amused tone. “You do realise that all you did was talk about him back when I first started seeing you. How you wished things had gone differently, how much you missed his friendship. How much you were worried that you’d mess things up. And then you messed up.”

Jared all but glares at her. “And your point is?”

Katie smiles at him, like there’s something funny about any of this. “My point is that for once in your life you have to follow your heart and _use_ your head. You have to accept that you might not get what you want but… you also need to try.”

“Can you put that in basic terms, please?” Jared asks. He just wants a straight answer. Or some basic, easily comprehensible advice.

Katie rolls her eyes. “It means that you’ve got a _lot_ of work to do. And a lot of praying because Jensen doesn’t sound like he’s stupid enough to give you a chance.”

“Hey!” Jared protests. “I’m a... catch? Right. I have my good qualities and... stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re something,” Katie retorts; her eyes soften and she clears her throat. “Give it time. And maybe try not to see the world through Jared-tinted glasses for once. I get it, being a great tennis player requires a certain degree of selfishness but... not so much that you forget who are. Who you want to be.”

Jared sighs, because she’s gone back to her philosophical, psychological-speak, and he’ll be damned if he ever figures out what half of it means.

One thing that he understands is that he really does have a lot of work to do. Both on the court and _off_ it.

~

Jensen’s training methods are _brutal_.

“I don’t think we need to do any more endurance training,” Jared complains one Tuesday afternoon. It’s hot, with the bright California sun making everything extra sweaty and unbearable. He’s lying on his back and panting heavily. He’s just finished his second set of Superman exercises and Jensen’s insisting that he do one more. Jared knows that he could use his knee as an excuse to get out of it but, surprisingly, it’s healed faster than the doctor predicted.

“Fine, don’t do it and kiss goodbye to your career slam,” Jensen snaps from where’s standing above Jared with a stern expression on his face. “I’m sure Tom will throw a huge house party when he gets his, and you know that he’ll invite you, just to rub it in and--”

“Alright, alright,” Jared says, before Jensen can go on. “Help me up.” He holds up a hand and does his best not to react when Jensen’s hand touches his. It sends a shiver through his arm and he’s unfocused when Jensen hoists him up. For a second, they’re too close, eyes locked and everything still. Jared holds his breath momentarily as he anticipates... _anything_. He’s been trying to keep this professional, even with Jensen’s snarky attitude but it’s difficult. Luckily (or unluckily) for him Jensen drops his hand and takes a step back.

“Your legs weren’t high enough last time,” he says. “This time, I want to see you do it the way I showed you.”

Jared rolls his eyes and wondered why he bothered getting up at all.

~

The first time Jared sees Jensen in a non-work setting is at Chad’s birthday party. It’s at some exorbitant Malibu beach house that Chad’s renting. The music is _loud_ , too loud and there are bikini-clad girls everywhere. The prim and proper waiters with round drink trays seem completely out of place, but whatever. It’s not his party. Jared only attends because he knows Jensen’s going. Things with Chad are still rocky, but he’s still Jared’s agent - he’s _good_ , just a shitty friend.

“Jared, you made it!” Chad calls with a loud whoop. “Jensen says no alcohol for you, but whatever, have fun! We’ll talk later, okay?”

The last part is said in a more serious tone and Jared wonders how stupid Chad thinks he is.

Jared scoffs bitterly. “You sure about that? Thought you might wanna blank me for months first.”

Chad darts around carefully before reaching out and dragging Jared to a secluded spot just outside the patio doors.

“Look, I was just trying to fix the situation that you got yourself into,” Chad hisses angrily. “You never listen to me, so I didn’t tell you shit this time. I told you not to go there with Tom and you went there. I told you not to get hung up on Jensen and you got hung up. I _warned_ you not to let fame destroy your relationship with your parents, but you did that too. You seem to think that you needed no-one, so I gave you a taste of what that was like.”

Jared wants to yell at Chad and call bullshit on all he’s said but he can’t. He can’t because it’s true and... in a way, this tough love thing has worked. Being alone is what gave him the kick up the backside he needs because he doesn’t want to be alone anymore, doesn’t want to keep pushing people away.

He doesn’t want to be that same little kid he’d been, shunned and outcast because of a mistake. Back then his problems were down to his father but now they’re down to mistakes of his own making. Jared knows that.

“Thank you,” he tells Chad simply.

Chad’s response is a weary, “For what?”

Jared smiles slowly. “For bringing him back to me.”

He won’t elaborate but he can tell that he doesn’t need to. Chad gets it, he always did.

“Yeah, well, considering that I spent _months_ working this out for you, you better not fuck up,” Chad retorts. “If you do, I’ll quit.”

The words lack bite and Jared realises that for all his talk of being alone, Chad’s _always_ had his back. Sure, half of their conversations are taken up by Chad calling him an idiot but... well, he _is_ an idiot. Having someone to remind him doesn’t hurt.

Maybe Chad’s not a shitty friend after all.

“You’ll never quit me, Chad,” Jared jokes with a lewd wink. “You’d miss me too much.”

Chad snorts and knocks his drink back in one swig. He wipes at his mouth and shakes his head, “We’ll finish this later. There’s a drink and girl out there with my name on ‘em.”

He’s gone before Jared can even make a joke, and he finds himself smiling again. The air is cool here, probably due to the beach. Tide’s up and he watches as the water gleams in the moonlight. Suddenly, he wants to go down there and feel the sand under his toes. He just wants one moment of tranquillity, of solitude. He wants to breathe in fresh air and really feel it.

He’s moving before he knows what’s happening; strolling past some stray partygoers who call out his name excitedly. He waves back, flashes a smile that isn’t real but doesn’t bother to stop.

By the time, he's close to the water there's a chill, and he shivers unconsciously as he stares at the deep, wide expanse of blue. He's so lost in thought that he doesn't hear anyone approaching him.

“What are you doing here?” a voice calls; startling Jared so much that he almost bowls over, save for a strong grip keeping him upright.

Jared looks up and almost laughs when he sees Jensen staring back at him with an almost angry expression.

“Just looking,” he says. “Not really in a party mood what with my trainer busting my balls.”

Technically he's forbidden from doing anything that isn't tennis or tennis adjacent, but the party was allowed for whatever reason. Even though Chad basically played a long con to get Jensen back onside, Jared's done enough snooping on social media to see that they're still friends.

“I told Chad not to invite you,” Jensen replies, but it's obvious that he's not being serious. Still, if anyone gets Jared's isolation complex, it's Jensen, but after everything there's clearly no room for friendship.

Jared finds himself shrugging self-consciously. “People would talk if I wasn't here. Besides, I'm doing dinner with Sandy after this.”

That gets Jensen's attention. He swallows audibly and his brow is suddenly furrowed. Even the line of his shoulders tense and Jared's stuck standing there thinking _he's jealous_.

“Do you remember that time that I kissed you?” he asks because he's not about to discuss Sandy with Jensen. That would be too weird, even for him.

Jensen snorts and turns to face the water, his grip on Jared's arm finally loosening. “I'm surprised that _you_ do.”

Jared clears his throat and braces himself for the confession that he's about to make. “I wasn't drunk that night.”

Back then, Jared was all about his body being a temple and that meant that he probably killed a shit ton of plants when he was trying to fit in at parties. On the night in question, he'd nursed the same beer while Jensen got a little tipsy due to an argument with his parents.

“I know.”

Jensen faces him again, and his eyes are blank.

“I did it because I wanted you to feel better,” Jared adds before everything veers off track. He realises how _wrong_ it sounds just as Jensen’s expression changes. “Not that I pitied you or anything, just, you were always so hard on yourself and it just happened. One minute I was completely powerless and the next, I was kissing you.”

There’s silence for a long time, with the only noise coming from the calm sway of the water. Jared turns to look back at the beach and exhales deeply. For whatever reason, it feels good to finally have this out in the open. It’s not like it was some huge secret, but it’s part of the reason he never allows himself to get close to anyone. His father had friends, acquaintances, _family,_ and that didn’t stop him from hurting them regardless of whether he meant to. Jared’s spent his entire life trying not to make the same mistake.

“Why are you telling me this?” Jensen asks finally. His tone is quiet and subdued but he seems more confused than angry.

Jared shrugs nonchalantly. “Just thought you should know.”

Before Jensen can reply, he makes his excuses and leaves before he can say anything else.

~

Jensen’s even more tense during their next training session. His responses are terse and snarky which makes Jared angry, and eventually he demands to take a break. Jensen acquiesces but not before muttering a few choice words under his breath. Jared sits on one of the benches at the side of the room and takes a swig of water. His shitty mood is more to do with his voluntary redemption tour which started with Sandy. Apologising for being a shitty boyfriend wasn’t fun, especially when he’d listened to a few home truths for two hours and shed more tears than he has in the past ten years combined. The uneasiness comes from the fact that there are only two more people on his admittedly short list. One is in the same room as him and the other is his main competitor.

So much for an easy life.

_Jensen_

 

If you asked Jensen to give a blow-by-blow of the last six months, he wouldn't know where to start. First, he was back in the States, and after that he was befriended by Jared's agent under what now appears to be false pretences. Now he's _working_ for Jared and it's intense. There's so much between them that Jensen spends most of each session praying for time to whizz by so he can go home. Although by the time he's reached his apartment he finds himself missing the closeness, and, really, how messed up is that?

Jared's been on his best behaviour for the most part. No mood swings or storm outs, he just gets down to it and takes direction. It seems too easy almost, like he's trying to impress Jensen. Given his weird confession about the kiss and the way he looks at Jensen when he thinks no one else is looking, he probably is. Jensen doesn't know how to deal with it. It's been a long time since he even considered the possibility of anything with Jared, and even then, it was more of a fantasy than anything. Jared was a good-looking guy and one of Jensen's only friends. It was normal to form attachments, right? That's all it was until Jared told him where to go.

Jensen finds himself confiding in Chris a month after he starts working with Jared. They're at a small bar that's playing soft rock music and serving the best hot wings Jensen's tasted outside of Texas. He's sitting in a booth with Chris and taking the occasional swig from the bottle of Corona in front of him.

“I'm just not really sure what's happening,” he explains, picking at the beer bottle label slowly. “For the most part we focus on the tennis, and I do my best to be serious and just keep everything there. Next thing I know, he throws another curveball and I'm left floundering.”

Chris narrows his eyes slightly, and taps on the table. “I have no idea what the heck you're on about, but I will say this. You've had a messed up thing for this guy since I've known you. And yeah, he ditched you once and is an asshole but... Obviously, there's something there.”

Jensen doesn't look up from where he's stripping the paper from glass.

“Not _obviously_ ,” he grumbles. He's frustrated by all of this. By Chad's trickery and by Jared's advances. All he cares about is helping Jared win the US Open. He's short of match practise but he will receive a bye into the first round because his injury. Going all the way and winning is unlikely but there's no harm in trying. He's aware that Jared's still trying to beat Tom at whatever game they're playing, but he's not interested. That is a huge part of why he's wary of Jared’s insinuation. That situation with Tom is just on hiatus; it's never going to be over.

“Look, whenever I'm unsure about something, I just run it through a thirty second preview.”

Jensen frowns. “A what now?”

Chris sighs and looks at Jensen head on. “I love you like a brother, but I think that maybe you don't see how you've added to this situation. He kissed you and _you_ said nothing. He asked you to be his friend and you didn't say no. You continued to work with Tom even when you learned about their history. You kept yourself in the middle of that situation.”

“And now, you've come out on the other side and you're still saying nothing. You've got everything you've ever wanted dangling on a string and you're still not sure what you want. Just, take thirty seconds and think about whether you'll regret it if you don't give him a chance.”

~

Chris's words stay with him and, just before bed, Jensen finds himself sitting on the edge of his mattress and wondering for thirty seconds. What it would be like to _be_ with Jared. Whether he'd be okay with coming second to tennis. Would he be able to forget everything that happened with Tom? He thinks way beyond the thirty seconds and most of it is just questions. By the time he's answered them all, he has a sinking feeling in his gut.

Obviously, the answer is that he would regret it, but knowing that isn't enough. However, it's a start. He resolves to at least say something that'll put an end to the awkwardness and he invites Jared for lunch.

It's a rare day off and Jared looks rather sleepy when he stumbles into the cafe. He's got a Nike baseball cap shoved over his unruly brown hair and he's in an oversized hoodie and slim fit jeans, almost as if he just threw on what was nearby.

After rattling an order consisting of at least three things not present on his diet plan, Jared levels him with a huge grin.

“It's nice to see you outside of your whole, snarky coach persona,” he says.

Jensen clears his throat because he's certain that Jared isn't going to like what he has to say. He's projecting a calm exterior but inside his nerves are shot and his hands are sweaty. He almost changes his mind but he has to do this. He has to put a stop to all of this unhealthy tension between them.

“That’s why I brought you here,” he starts. “I appreciate you telling me about the kiss. I appreciate everything you've said, but Tom… That whole situation is messy and I refuse to be a part of it. That means that you and I can only go forward on a professional basis.”

Jared's smile fades and it's like a spark goes out in his eyes. That, more than anything, makes Jensen feel like shit. He doesn't want to be yet another person leaving Jared alone but... He also doesn't want to get hurt again. This is him choosing to break free of this cycle.

“You could have just texted me that,” Jared says with a slightly shaky laugh. “I think our lunch is probably going to be extremely awkward now.”

That Jared is trying to save face makes Jensen feel even worse. He decides to change the subject by reaching into his crossbody bag and pulling out a binder full of pointers and stats.

“Luckily for both of us, I always come prepared.”

Jared doesn't respond, just stares at him blankly. Even though none of the other patrons are paying them any mind, Jensen suddenly feels as if every eye is on him. He places the binder on the table and clears his throat awkwardly. In a way, this is a test to see if this _new_ Jared is real. The old one would have told him to fuck off by now, but Jared’s just looking at him.

“If you want to do this another time, that’s fine,” Jensen hears himself saying, because hell, maybe he’s a coward who’d like to get the fuck out of here.

His words seem to jolt Jared from whatever trance he’s in and Jensen’s on the receiving end of a fake smile.

“No, let’s do it now,” Jared says. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Jensen swallows audibly before he flips open the binder. He’s sure that this is going to be the most excruciating lunch he’s ever eaten.

~

Jensen is almost expecting the call from Chad when it comes. That’s how it goes, right? He’s supposed to toe the line and not piss off the star.

“If you’re calling to chew me out, save it,” Jensen answers immediately in response to Chad’s warm greeting. “My job is to train Jared, not sleep with him.”

There’s a long pause.

“Uh, not why I’m calling,” Chad replies eventually. “Though, now I know why Jared’s in one of his moods. You rejected him. Good for you. Emo crap aside, Jared’s got a charity match against Nadal in two weeks. Make sure he’s ready. He doesn’t need to win, he just needs to look _good_.”

Jensen frowns and decides to ignore the first part of Chad’s response. “What’s the charity?”

“Change for something,” Chad replies instantly. “That’s not your concern. Make sure Jared’s good and maybe you can finish breaking his heart _after_ the US Open? You were the one who was all about keeping it professional. See that it stays that way.”

Chad cuts off before Jensen can answer, and it’s probably for the best because Jensen’s only considering the implications of what he said to Jared at lunch. Yes. Jared was coming on a bit too strong but he’s still _human_. He still has emotions and feelings like every other person and Jensen could have been easier on him, or just left it alone. On the other hand, what about Jensen’s feelings? They don’t matter any less than Jared’s.

“Fuck this,” he mutters to himself. “Fuck all of this.”

~

The match against Nadal goes well, even if Jared’s grin melts off the second the cameras are turned the other way. Jensen pats him on the back and says some meaningless words about his game being good even though everyone can see that Nadal is _miles_ better. Jared just nods in response and heads into the locker room leaving Jensen frowning, standing in the lobby of the tennis centre.

“At least you guys have made some money for charity, right?” a light, sweet voice pipes up.

Jensen looks to his left and comes face to face with the cause of his consternation. Sandy McCoy, Jared’s former fiancée. Technically she’s here as Jared’s guest, but the cameras have been clicking and whirring and they all know it’ll be plastered all over the internet, magazines and whatever else. And even though Jensen _knows_ that they’re just friends, there’s this thing inside him, this storm brewing in response to seeing Sandy and her smiling face.

There might not be anything left on Jared’s end, but Jensen recognises the look on her face. It’s what’s been staring back at him in the mirror for years; the same look he saw on Tom before everything got ugly.

For someone who thinks that everyone leaves, Jared’s got this way of captivating people and Jensen has no idea how he became trapped.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sandy’s small voice sounds again and Jensen turns to face her.

He shrugs and mutters, “Sure.”

“What’s the real reason behind you leaving?” she asks, surprising Jensen. He’s not about to get rude, but he’s also not going to answer her prying question. “I know it’s none of my business, but if a guy admits that he was seeing another guy and _someone else_ gets upset, it usually means that they’re jealous.”

She’s smiling innocently and even has the nerve to nod at Jared’s PT when he walks past them. Meanwhile, Jensen’s standing there and trying hard to refrain from telling her to leave him the fuck alone. The truth is that she’s hit a nerve and that _pisses_ him off. So what if he was jealous? That doesn’t change the fact that he was in the middle of an extremely uncomfortable situation.

“I think you’re right,” Jensen says testily. “It’s none of your business.”

He turns on his heel and walks off before she can say anything else.

~

Jared suffers a first round defeat at the next two tournaments he’s scheduled for and the media have a field day. Jensen only knows this because Jared seems to be obsessed with reading every single word printed about him. Right now, he’s fuming, reading out the generic soundbites Tom gave a reporter who asked him about Jared.

“’ _Welling claimed that Padalecki would still be a credible threat for the US Open next month, but one suspects that he was just being polite,’_ ” Jared reads before he tosses the newspaper away angrily. Jensen rolls his eyes because when he said _take five_ he didn’t mean bitch for fifteen minutes.

“Are you _done_?” he asks. After his conversation with Sandy, Jensen’s decided to keep everything strictly professional. Not that Jared’s been talking to him, quite the contrary. Today’s the most animated that he’s been in weeks.

Jared gestures at the paper. “The world seems to think so.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t pay me to care about the world,” Jensen snaps. “Can we get back to talking about your serve?”

Jensen’s been studying the footage from Jared’s past few games and spotted what he thinks could be the breakthrough.

“You know you might be a good trainer, but you’re a shitty motivator,” Jared grumbles. He shifts in his seat and mutters something else that Jensen doesn’t catch.

For some reason, the words sting. Jensen’s always prided himself on being the kind of coach that believes in his players and does his best to uplift them. With Jared it’s been the opposite, and he’s never stopped to think about how it could affect _both_ of them. 

With a heavy sigh, he leans over and picks up the discarded newspaper. He makes a show of holding it up and ripping it in half.

“No more newspapers, no more Twitter or internet,” he says. “The only person you need to listen to is me. And the rest of the team. None of us would be here if we didn’t think that you could make it to the top, Jared. I believe in you. You need to believe in yourself.”

“You don’t believe in me, Jensen, so let’s not kid ourselves,” Jared spits back angrily. His eyes flash with such a ferocity that Jensen’s head rears back. “I know that Chad basically forced you into this and you’ve made it clear that this is just a _job_ to you. I’m just a... job.”

The last part is said quietly, the fight suddenly leaving Jared as quickly as it came.

“You’ve never been _just_ anything to me and you _know_ that,” Jensen says. He scratches at his jaw lightly as his mind scrambles to find a solution to this latest hurdle. “I’ll make you a deal: if we can just focus on tennis until Flushing Meadows, then... we can talk about us after.”

Jared gives him an odd look. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that you clearly don’t want to be here. So maybe you need to take a step back.”

The thought alone makes Jensen recoil in horror and he knows in that moment that whatever is here, whatever this _thing_ between them is, it isn’t over by a long shot.

It’s never been over.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he insists strongly. “I’m in this for the long haul, Jared.”

“Let’s talk about my serve then.”

Jensen clears his throat and wonders if Jared feels as off-kilter as he does. “Right now, your first serve is causing too many unforced errors. You’re still anxious about your knee, so your stance is all off. What you need to be doing is approaching the ball with the edge of your racket.

“Next, it’s the simple things. Finish your shots the same way. Don’t try to get all flashy. The aim is to win, not show off new tricks. Most importantly, take your time. There are a couple of other things I noticed but I think we’re out of time. You said you had a meeting to get to?”

When Jensen looks up from his notes, Jared’s smiling softly.

“Screw the meeting,” he says. “It can wait.”

~

One week before the US Open is due to start, trouble comes in the form of Tom. They’re at some charity shindig; a gala for an organisation that Jensen’s never heard of and Tom’s been the center of attention all night. Word is that he’s just knocked up a younger tennis player and, right now, PR is working overdrive to make them appear as if they’re love’s young dream.

The sad part is that everyone in this crowded ballroom knows better. He overhears Roddick joking about it but doesn’t join in. He was tight with Tom for _years_ and, friends or not, he’s not going to speculate about it. Jared, on the other hand, finds it hilarious.

“It would be sad if it wasn’t so clichéd,” he says once he’s done laughing at the TMZ article. “But you know, maybe this will help him somehow. Give him something that he’s never been able to find elsewhere.”

 _You mean with you_ , Jensen thinks, but Jared sounds sincere enough that he doesn’t voice it.

“Jensen, it’s nice to see you,” Tom’s voice calls suddenly and Jensen’s caught off guard when he looks up to see Tom’s piercing blue eyes staring at him coldly.

_Please don’t cause a scene, please don’t cause a scene._

Tom’s ‘girlfriend’ Kristen smiles politely before excusing herself. Jensen barely manages to stop himself from running after her. He feels Jared step closer to him and, seriously, not this shit _again_.

“I hear that congratulations are in order,” Jared says in lieu of Jensen responding.

To Jensen’s surprise, Tom’s eyes soften as he nods his appreciation. “Thank you. And I’m glad that you’re back playing, for what it’s worth. Winning isn’t the same when my competition is side-lined.”

Jared laughs at that and Jensen begins to wonder if he’s in an episode of _The_ _Twilight Zone_. “Thanks, I think. It’s been good to play again. I’ve missed it.”

Tom’s called away before they can continue talking, which is good because he barely spares a glance at Jensen before he moves across the room.

“What the hell was that?” Jensen hisses after he drags Jared to a secluded corner.

“Tom and me are cool,” Jared explains with an easy shrug. “Well, so long as we limit our interactions to five minutes. And I can tell that he wanted to start shit with you so... I thought I’d step in.”

Jensen’s not sure why he does it but before he’s even aware of his movements, he’s pressing a chaste kiss to Jared’s mouth. It’s brief but enough to send a tingle down Jensen’s spine. The reality of what he’s done crashes down on him seconds later and he pulls back violently. Jared’s eyes are wide and surprised and Jensen realises that he just kissed him in _public_.

He’s backing away and running out before Jared can even find his voice.

Ironically, it’s Tom who appears by his side five minutes later. Jensen’s sitting on a couch in the lobby, running through up to ten different scenarios in his mind.

“Relax, no one else saw you guys,” Tom tells him as he sits down. The couch sags with his weight and Jensen shifts to create some distance between them. “So, you and Jared, huh?”

Jensen looks up and is shocked to find Tom _grinning_.

“I thought you were angry with me?” he asks instead of answering the question. He doesn’t know what he and Jared are.

Tom shrugs. “I was. Still am. But... seeing you kiss Jared kinda... It made me stop. The night I met you, we were both trying to get over him and here we are. I’m going to be a father and you’re with Jared.

“I know I’m not making any sense, but I grew up with adoptive parents, y’know? I always felt like I didn’t belong and Jared was part of that. He got that loneliness but... not enough to truly let me in. He wasn’t - _isn’t_ \- ever going to be my solution but... this baby is a chance for me to have what I didn’t when I was a kid. A _family_.”

“Tom... I…. I don’t know what to say,” Jensen replies shakily. “I’m not with Jared. Everything was just too messed up. Even though I... I’ve been in love with him for a long fucking time, there’s just this part of me that’s _scared_. I don’t want to end up the way you and he did.”

It's the first time Jensen's said it out loud and the first time he's ever truly admitted it. Suddenly, he feels overwhelmed.

Tom shakes his head gently. “You won’t. When I told you that you looked familiar the day we met, it wasn’t just some cheesy pick-up line. The one thing Jared was ever honest about was the fact that he fucked things up with his best friend. And... maybe it was fate that brought us together that day. Maybe that was one phase of the journey,”

Tom sounds earnest but it's hard to reconcile this version of him with the one that Jensen knows.

Jensen snorts. “I think impending fatherhood has made you loopy. That or you’ve been binging on _Hallmark_ movies.”

Tom chuckles. “Definitely _Hallmark_.”

There’s a comfortable pause before Tom adds, “Think about what I said. Even if it doesn’t work out, there’s no harm in trying.”

He stands up and even though Jensen wants to ask him to stay, he knows in his heart that this is the end of the road for him and Tom. For now at least.

“Good luck with the US Open next week,” Tom continues. “May the best man win.”

He walks away then, leaving Jensen staring at his retreating figure.

“May the best man win,” he echoes softly.

Jared appears suddenly and Jensen becomes aware that he could have overheard his conversation with Tom. Hell, anyone could. The lobby area is open and spacious.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jared asks. His tie has been loosened and Jensen finds his eyes drawn to the tan skin of his collarbone. He looks away because nothing is happening with Jared tonight. Still, that doesn’t mean that they can’t just _be together_.

“Sure,” he answers softly.

They leave the building side by side, their footsteps in sync.

~

# “Game”

 

“ _Well, Jim, I have to say that making the US Open was always going to be tough for Jared Padalecki but somehow, he's pulled it off. Judging by his last few matches, he's not really a contender to win but either way, he's got a lot to play for_.”

 

_Jared_

__

Jared is two sets down and losing the third 3-0 when he finally requests a medical timeout. The truth is that he’s _this_ close to giving up and he just needs a second to recharge. His opponent is a young Frenchman called Robin Guillaume and he’s ranked below the top 30. It should be an easy game but Jared’s short of practise and fitness. The only thing that’s going to turn this game around for him is a mental breakthrough and he’s struggling badly in that area.

It’s not like in Monte Carlo when losing didn’t matter, back then it was just a _warm up_. This is big. This is chance to get his career slam and it’s slowly falling into pieces in front of him. It’s hard to sit back and let his PT, Dan, work on his back. It’s been cramping up since the second set and, if it persists, he won’t finish the match let alone lose gracefully. Luckily, no one else bothers him and by the time Dan is done his back is better. He does the deep breathing exercises he’s picked up over the years and tries to psyche himself up. He takes his mind back to his pre-match routine.

He stands up from the gurney and stretches lithely. Dan pats him on his shoulder and Jared steels himself for the walk back onto the court. The Arthur Ashe stadium has always been a favourite of his and he knows that the neutrals will be wanting an upset. Hell, everyone might. He might be a home player, but his past behavior hasn’t generated a lot of goodwill over the years.

Here, it’s just him, battling on his own. He quickens his step; it’s time for him to get out there and kick ass.

The crowd cheers good-naturedly when he returns, but Jared’s only got eyes for the box. Jensen’s there, along with Sandy and his parents. He makes eye contact with Jensen and nods when he mouths, _are you okay_? It’s not exactly the truth but he needs to believe it. He’s got a minimum of three games to pull this off.

The other player looks annoyed when Jared takes his position on the baseline. It’s his serve and he counts down to ten as he bounces the green ball on the acrylic surface.

_Five, four, three, two, one._

He throws the ball in the air and extends his racket so that the edge connects with the ball. He puts everything into it, every doubt, insecurity. All his fear. The pain. It all goes into that shot.

He serves an ace to make it 15-0

The crowd erupts into raucous cheers but Jared drowns it out. He prepares his second serve in the same way as the first. Counting down slowly. Optimum concentration. It’s not an ace, but Guillaume stumbles and bundles the ball into the net.

30-0.

His next serve is flat and Guillaume returns it easily. Jared’s not looking to get into a long rally so he’s up at the net and exerting himself, returning the ball with power each time. He knows that he’s going to get told off for it later but now’s not the time to play pretty tennis. If there was ever a time for him to win ugly this is it.

Guillaume runs up to the net and tries to dink the ball over but Jared’s there to power his return shot out of reach.

40-0.

He’s so desperate to keep momentum going that he fucks up and makes two unforced errors. Some people cheer as the umpire announces 40-15 but he keeps his head down, goes back to counting down from ten.

_Three, two, one._

He serves _another_ ace and jumps into the air when he hears the umpire say _game_. The crowd goes wild, seemingly forgetting that they were jeering him not long ago. Jared doesn’t dwell on it, just accepts a towel from the ball boy and takes his seat. He feels jittery with nerves and all he can do is swig water as his leg shakes. Guillaume has his head down facing his lap when Jared glances over briefly. After he looks away, he decides to switch his headband for a fresh one. He shakes his hair to release the excess sweat before pressing it down and pushing on the headband.

The next mountain to climb is breaking Guillaume’s serve. He’s done it twice in this match, only to lose the advantage almost immediately. At 6-3, 6-2, 3-1 down, Jared’s not the one with the most to lose. That gives him an edge, not much of one, but it’s there all the same. Guillaume is starting to tire and get sloppy. If Jared can keep it together, this match is winnable. All he needs to do is win the set.

Before Guillaume serves for the start of the next game, Jared’s eyes subconsciously look up at the box. His parents being here means a lot even if Chad basically demanded he invite them for PR’s sake and--

\--the ball whizzes by Jared and hits the patch of the court just behind the line.

“Out!”

Jared should be happy with that but instead he mentally berates himself for focusing.

 _Get it together,_ he tells himself.

Guillaume’s next serve is easy to return and Jared finds himself up by the net more times than he’d like in the ensuing rally. Eventually Guillaume slips up and returns a shot at the net, allowing Jared to comfortably hit it behind him.

15-15.

The rest of the game is tough, but they reach _deuce_ and Jared starts watching every micro movement that Guillaume is making. He sends a spray of shots over the net, doing his best to tire him out even more. In the end, Guillaume sends a ball that flies out and just like that, Jared’s broken his serve and it’s 3-2.

Jared goes on to win the set 6-3, and the one after that 6-1.

By the time they’re halfway through the final set, Jared’s praying that he can avoid a tie-breaker. However, Guillaume seems to have gotten a second wind because he’s on _fire_ , and battles from 4-1 down to level the scores at 4-4. Jared can feel himself weakening, can feel the fatigue seeping into his muscles and he knows that he must pull something out of the bag.

Like now, when Guillaume deliberately over hits a shot that sends Jared running back towards the baseline. In a moment of pure panic, he flings his racket backwards and hits the ball with as much force as he can muster. He turns to see Guillaume slip before he can connect his own racket with the green ball.

5-4.

Jared doesn’t look anywhere but at the balls he’s given by the ball girl. He calls for a towel and throws it back seconds later when he’s wiped off as much sweat as he can without losing focus.

It’s him to serve and he’s able to get a 40-15 lead in a few minutes and bag himself two match points. The stadium is eerily quiet, thanks to the chair umpire who’s been ordering for silence for the past ten minutes. Jared takes a deep breath and begins his countdown.

_Ten, nine, eight…_

He tosses the ball up into the air and swings his racket up and hits the ball. Guillaume is able to return the shot and they end up rallying back and forth until one slow moment when Guillaume tries yet another dink shot. For one cruel moment, Jared thinks it’s going to topple over on his side but instead the ball careens into the net.

Everything stops and Jared can only stare.

It hits him in slow starts and bursts. He’s _won_. He just fucking won the match. He lets out an unbridled loop and pumps his hands into the air. The crowd are right there with him, still cheering as he jogs over to the middle of the court and shakes hands with Guillaume.

“Good game,” Jared says earnestly.

Guillaume smiles good naturedly. “Good luck in the rest of the tournament.”

It’s then that it hits Jared just how _close_ he was to going out.

~

By the time Jared’s done with his post-match commitments. he’s spent hours making up bullshit about how he just had to believe in himself. In a way it’s true, but he knows that all he was focused on was each point. Each ball. It was about not taking the coward's way out, because at two sets down, all he’d wanted to do was stop for the day. For a moment, the pain was too much, the pace too draining and just _too much_.

“Put some ice on your knee,” Jensen says when he reaches the locker room. This is the first time they’ve spoken since the game ended, and all Jared wants to ask him is how Jensen knew when the end was upon him. Technically, Jared’s in his prime. He’s thirty-one and he has at least two-three years left in him. Still, he can't help wondering.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jared says, deciding to just face the situation there and then. It’s either that or letting it plague him and he has another game in two days - his mind needs to be clear of any distractions.

“Sure,” Jensen replies easily, although his expression is wary. Jared can tell that Jensen’s biding his time until he rides Jared for his sloppy start to the match.

“When did you know that you were going to retire?” he asks. He still remembers that match as clear as day, still recalls the way Jensen seemed to give up even before the damage to his ankle.

Jensen sighs heavily. “When I blew out my ankle.”

Jared shakes his head. “No. That’s not it. We don’t just get injured and _give up_ , the seeds have to be planted first, right? It starts with the doubt and just... builds up. Right?”

“The fact that you need to _ask_ is the only answer that you need,” Jensen tells him dismissively. “I’m going to catch up with Dan, let him know what he needs to work on. We’ll talk about the match later.”

In some fucked up way, Jensen’s dismissal _is_ the answer that Jared needs. He’s always loved tennis in a way that Jensen didn’t. He’s always loved playing, always seen it as an extension of himself.  He still needs this crutch in his life.

He’s not ready to give it up. Not yet.

“How’d Tom do?” Jared calls out before Jensen can leave.

Jensen’s mouth upturns at one corner. “He won. In straight sets. So, how about less of the bullshit about _retiring_ and, I don’t know, maybe get your head in the game?”

He opens the door and leaves before Jared can even consider a response.

~

The next two games are unexciting affairs and Jared blows away his opponents in straight sets and makes it to the semi-finals. He's due to play Federer who's just returned from injury and has been on a rather impressive winning streak (unlike Jared who is amazed that he's made it this far). Currently, the odds are on a Federer win but Jared's got to keep his head down and focus on doing his thing. Playing his game.

Ignoring the fact that if he wins, it could mean playing Tom in the final.

They may be on speaking terms (just about) but it's for the benefit of the cameras. Both of their PR teams are embracing the ‘older, mature father-figure’ thing and going back and forth like teenagers is now strongly discouraged.

“Earth to Jared?” Jared snaps out of his thoughts to find Jensen looking at him expectantly. “Is there something more interesting than figuring how we’re going to win the next match?”

“Uh, no,” Jared replies. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Jensen glares at him angrily. “I was saying that Federer is the kind of player that capitalizes on _any_ weakness that you show him. Such as your inability to focus.”

“I’ve played Federer before, I think I know his game by now,” Jared snaps, annoyed that he’s been caught out.

Jensen throws his hands up indignantly. “Fine. You can just go through this by yourself.”

“That’s fine by me,” Jared shoots back. He sits back on the couch and folds his arms petulantly. Even with the massage he got from his PT, he feels stiff and uncomfortable and his baggy hoodie is sticking to the skin on his neck. He’s tense, possibly in anticipation of the next match, but feeling like this is fucking with him. So, no, he doesn’t want to sit here and pick apart Federer’s game plan.

“Look, you’re nervous and I get that, but where is this coming from?” Jensen queries. The anger has melted into concern and it’s just another _thing_ to deal with. “You used to be the most confident player that I know.”

“Maybe you don’t know me very well,” Jared mutters. “Maybe I’ve finally figured out that... there’s more to this than _winning_. These past few months have been about getting my hands on the US Open by any means necessary and... I think it goes back to what you said.” Jared trails off and tries to center his thoughts; tries to school them into some semblance of sense.

“What I said?” Jensen asks.

“Yeah, way back when we first met. You said that it wasn’t about winning. That you were just having fun. You _enjoyed_ it.”

Jensen frowns and shifts so that he can look at Jared properly. “Okay, but what does that have to do with you suddenly doubting yourself.”

Jared huffs roughly and shrugs. “Maybe I've realised that I'm not having fun? It's never been about that for me. It was about proving a point and... Right now, there's only one person I want to prove anything too. And it has nothing to do with tennis. I'm not used to that.”

Jensen looks at him for a long time, the silence growing so long that Jared's not sure if he's going to get a response.

Eventually, Jensen clears his throat and says, “I know that you think I'm being difficult but I'm not. We're always going to have history and I need to consider _everything_ before I decide that I'm all in. And that includes making sure that you do all you can to achieve this slam. If you don't, it'll be my fault somehow and I can't have that on my conscience.”

Jared wants to deny it but even beginning to would be futile. He's an athlete and there's always going to be that ingrained selfishness. There's always going to be a reason something didn't go right; there always is.

“You're right,” he says quickly, before leaning over to grab the page of notes Jensen's been scribbling on. “So... what do I have to do to beat Federer?”

Jensen doesn't look convinced by Jared's sudden change in demeanour. “Jared…”

“No, it's fine,” Jared says firmly. “We'll talk after the US Open is over”

Win or lose, Jared's finally found something that's _truly_ worth fighting for.

~

_Jensen_

__

Jensen can barely watch the match against Federer. It's a tense affair and all the elation he feels when Jared wins the first set is extinguished when Federer powers back to win the next two. From then on, it's an uphill battle but Jared appears to be focused at least. He's 3-1 up in the fourth set and Federer seems to be tiring. Despite that, the crowd cheers wildly whenever he wins a point and Jensen's glad that Jared's got a good handle on what to expect from spectators.

By the time Jared wins the set, 6-3, Jensen's feeling better about the match. Most people's money will be on Federer to overpower Jared in the last set but they worked on this last night. He's satisfied that Jared has what it takes to come out on top.

“He's looking good out there,” Jared's father remarks as matter-of-factly. Jensen always forgets that he was Jared's manager at one point until he's stuck answering question upon question about things he knows nothing about. Every time Jensen directs him to Chad, he gets several profanity laden text messages in return.

“Yeah,” Jensen replies absently. “If he keeps up like this, he has a good chance of seeing the game through.”

Jensen doesn't add the fact that he's hoping that Jared goes through to the semis just so that they don't have to talk about _them_ for a while longer. It's taking a lot for Jensen to process that Jared is _serious_ about being with him. Enough that tennis isn't even everything to him anymore. It's fucking scary and he can't help Jared realise his dream and wonder about their relationship at the same time. He needs to focus. Like, now, with the fifth set underway.

Federer makes a couple of unforced errors and Jared breaks his serve to lead the first set 0-1. He manages to build up a 0-3 lead before Federer breaks his serve and suddenly it's 4-3 and Federer is two games away from winning. Jensen watches as Jared mutters to himself at the side of the court, his leg jigging up and down nervously as he sips at his water. Jensen mentally wills him to stay strong because, all relationship drama aside, Jared winning this match would be _huge_. Coming back from a career threatening injury to complete a career slam would be a story that even Jared's most ardent detractors couldn't tarnish. It would be a huge boost for Jared's career and confidence, because no matter what notions Jared has about retiring, he's not done yet.

He looks up, eyes analysing the rally that Federer and Jared are engaged in. They're at _deuce_ and Jared _needs_ to reach advantage. Just like that, Federer mis-hits a shot and Sandy squeals in delight as the chair umpire announces _Advantage Padalecki._ Jensen eyes her warily, although he can't help smiling himself. Sandy's presence is something he still doesn't get but he's glad that Jared's got a friend. Jared’s been talking about surprising a new friend he’d made when he was at Winterfield with tickets if he makes it to the semis, and Jensen's curious. He still finds it surprising that Jared went back there at all, let alone _trained_ there.

He shakes his head slightly because he's supposed to be focusing on the game. He watches as Jared returns an awkward shot back across the net and goes running for the return. It's called out but Federer challenges it and they go through the charade of watching the Hawk-eye images showing that the ball was in fact out. It's a power move, designed to take away the thrill of Jared evening up the scores but, hell, Jensen would do the same thing.

It's 4-4 and the best thing for Jared right now would be to break Federer’s serve and then serve out the rest of the match.

Anxiously, Jensen watches as Jared fights back from 0-30 to pull off some spellbinding shots, including an impressive lob that catches Federer off guard. That's followed by a passing shot to make it 40-30 and suddenly Jensen is thinking _holy shit._ They might be able to pull this off. Federer has a better record against Jared than any of the other top players, so beating him here would be an impressive feat.

It takes another ten minutes but Jared manages to pull it off.

He wins the last set and he's through to the final.

Amidst the jubilation and excitement, there's only one thing standing in Jared's way when it comes to his career slam.

The one and only Tom Welling.

~

“This is... _weird,_ right?” Jared asks in the middle of a session.

It's the day after the semi and they're back in training. For the most part, it's just to make sure that Jared isn't injured or sore in any places. After so much intense playing in a short period of time, practise must be light. Jensen prefers to go through the analysis side of things because, to him, it's more important. The only thing is that he's never prepared anyone to play a match against Tom. That it's Jared just makes it even more weird.

“It is, but weirdness is allowed,” he says somewhat randomly. Jared might be looking for some comfort here but it's not going to come from him. “All you need to do is focus on the win. Forget about who you're playing and just focus.”

Jared nods wordlessly, but Jensen's been here before, he's played in finals. They come with an extra serving of nerves because coming so close to winning makes failure that much harder to accept.

“Tom seems to still be in PR mode,” Jared remarks casually. “He's got his girl turning up at games, got the media swarming all over his ass. I can use that.”

“Use it how?” Jensen asks. He's wondering if his pep talk just sailed past Jared's head.

Jared shrugs. “He's distracted. We both know that he got the easy side of the draw and Nadal retired in his semi-final. He's fresher than I am, so I have to beat him mentally.”

“Go on…” Jensen says.

“Tom rarely ever reacts well when he loses a sizeable lead,” Jared says confidently. His eyes are bright and Jensen's slowly realising that this is purely tennis talk. “He always gets ahead of himself and loses concentration. We saw it at that Australian Open, Queens and during a few Davis Cup games.”

Technically, Jared _is_ correct; Tom does have an issue with remaining focused during games that he's already winning, but what Jared is suggesting is risky.

Still, this isn't Jensen's career.

“Do what you feel is necessary,” he tells Jared, making sure to word it so that it's final. Jared seems to get it because he just nods and goes back to reading the notes.

~

The day of the final arrives in a flurry of activity. Jared's goes through what seems like a million press events and all the former pros make their predictions. Tom manages to end up splashed all over _OK! Magazine_ and Jensen texts him about it, just a teasing comment about how he's going all Hollywood on them. He sends a good luck message too because he did work with Tom once upon a time. He's going to be proud of whoever wins.

Jared keeps his head down in the run up and Jensen gives him his space. The media have made much of the US and rivalry aspect, and the fanfare has spread all over the country. Jensen snorts the first time someone asks _him_ for his autograph. By this point, they've realised that he's the mystery guy Jared was pictured with several years ago and that he worked for Tom, so there are now rumours swirling around.

“Please tell me that you're not fucking Jared,” Chad says when he calls on the morning of the game.

Jensen smiles and decides to rile him up. “Not yet.”

“Wow. You're not one of those chastity freaks, are you?” Chad asks, in a tone that Jensen can’t decipher.

Jensen rolls his eyes. “I've been too busy doing my _job_.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Chad says absently, like he wasn’t the one to call in the first place. “Tell Jared I say good luck.”

He hangs up then, leaving Jensen with some conflicting thoughts in his mind.

~

Jared's on his own in the locker room and Jensen walks in and locks the door behind him. Call him paranoid, but he doesn't want anyone walking in on them.

Jared's sitting on one of the benches with his head bowed down and white cables of his ear phones running down his chest. He's nodding his head to the music slightly and Jensen hovers awkwardly. Luckily for him, Jared looks up and removes his earphones when he sees him.

“Hey!” he says with a bright smile. “This is kind of crazy, right?”

It is.

“How's your knee holding up?” Jensen asks. He can tell that it's been bugging Jared and the reappearance of the brace doesn't bode well, but he knows that it won't stop Jared from playing. Not today.

“It's good, I just want to take any precautions that I can,” Jared says. “Are you okay?”

Jensen frowns and realises that he's _nervous_. About the match, about what happens after. About everything.

“Not really,” he answers truthfully. “I... I came in here to do something and I'm not sure that I should.”

He's tired of not going after what he wants, of always finding some excuse to run away. This time, he knows what he wants and he's determined to have it.

“If it's important to you then I think you should go for it,” Jared replies. He stands up then and starts to shove his iPod in his bag. The white headband comes out, along with his Nike polo. It's blue, with a white tick and black hemlines. Jensen looks away and steps forward, putting one foot in front of another until he's right in front of Jared. He stills Jared's hands and waits until he's looking at him.

“Just pretend that I'm not your coach for a second, okay?” Jensen says more for his own benefit than Jared's. “I just wanted to say that I want this. _Us._ And I know that this is fucked up timing but I couldn't wait any longer.”

Jared opens his mouth to respond but Jensen doesn't let him. Instead, he dives in and kisses Jared, presses so hard that he feels it down to his ribs. Jared's slow to respond but eventually he opens up and relaxes under Jensen's touch. Their mouths move against each other slowly until something drops in the background and they prise themselves away from each other slowly.

“Wow,” Jared says without looking to see what fell. “That was... something.”

He looks a little shell-shocked but there's a hint of a smile on his face.

Jensen snorts but he can't help the way the corners of his own mouth turn upwards. “That was inappropriate of me, but I just had to do it. Win or lose, I'm here. So. Yeah. I'm gonna put my coach hat back on now.”

He waits for Jared to respond but there's nothing. He clears his throat and starts to back away when he hears Jared call his name.

He stops and turns around.

“Yeah?”

Jared grins at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, champ,” Jensen responds calmly even though everything inside in him is fluttering like a bird's wings in flight. “Now, get your head in the game and make sure you play your best out there.”

“Yes, coach,” Jared replies with a mock salute and seriously, no one can begrudge Jensen for needing to kiss him again. Intent is one thing but love is another.

It's _everything_.

~

Jared's game plan was to let Tom bring his game to the court. Judging by the way Tom breezes through the first set 6-3, he's sticking to it. The second set is a tighter affair. There's a part of Jensen that feels like Jared feels this desire to play the maximum sets against Tom but he hopes that common sense prevails today. If Jared can do this in four sets, it would be a relief for everyone. Alas, tennis is never that simple and Jared finds himself battling in the third set; it's one set all and Tom is showing no signs of tiring. If anything, his game is immense. That he lost the second set is only down to Jared's sheer determination. Jensen's hoping that determination will get Jared out of the rut he's in. Tom is leading the third set 4-2 and Jared's just made two unforced errors.

Jensen watches as he finally plays a decent serve and a rally begins. It's sheer luck that wins Jared the point. Tom slices the ball across the net and just misses when Jared returns it via a drop shot. It's an ambitious shot and thankfully it works.

By the time they reach the fifth set, Jensen can barely watch. There's a tense atmosphere in the stadium as everyone watches the truly breath-taking tennis on display. Both Jared and Tom have brought their A game with them and Jensen can tell that the win might come down to luck.

Jared's down 5-4 in the last set when it happens. Tom's got two match points and advantage when he returns the ball. It lands just out of Jared's reach and there's a hushed silence as they wait for the chair umpire to declare the point. That doesn't happen though because Jared challenges the shot. There are audible gasps around Jensen and he takes a breath to steel his nerves. Fuck. If this doesn't go Jared's way, it'll turn Jared into a bigger pariah than he was in the early stage of his career.

There's a huge roar when the replay shows that the ball was in fact out, and Jensen physically keeps himself in his seat. Tom is probably going to be off kilter now but that's not his concern.

Jared doesn't waste any time in returning Tom's first serve with a powerful ace that gives him the advantage. Tom’s second serve is better than the first but Jared gets some topspin on the return and powers it past Tom.

_Game Padalecki._

Tom seems to fall apart at that point because Jared's serve is perfect. Two aces and a stunning down the line shot that seems to catch Tom by surprise. He wins the game with a ferocious volley that Tom can only bundle into the net.

_Game Padalecki._

Jared's mother is beside herself with nerves when Tom starts bouncing the ball on the baseline in preparation of his serve. Jensen feel nauseated, like his heart is in his stomach.

Tom's first serve is good, ricocheting across the net at a decent speed. Jared returns it easily, volleying it to the opposite side of where Tom is standing. Tom is slow to move and the ball bounces within the line before rolling off the court.

0-15.

Tom battles back to make it 30-40 but Jared's in his element. Some of the shots he's making are just pure beauty and Jensen feels a sense of personal pride. He's grinning even before Tom whacks a volley into the net and the crowd erupts into wild cheers. Jared drops to his knees and holds his racket up triumphantly. Jensen stands up and joins everyone else in applause, although he's interrupted when Jared's parents pull him into a hug. Jensen manages to free himself just in time to watch Jared jog over to the net and shake hands with Tom. They linger for a while and Jensen's surprised to see Jared pull Tom into a brief hug. He can already see the cameras swirling onto the court and no doubt that'll be the shot that everyone goes with tomorrow.

The next twenty minutes’ pass by with a blur and they wait for the trophy ceremony to proceed. Tom is humble in defeat but it's Jared that surprises him.

“I’d like to thank Tom because without him, none of what I achieved would be possible. From right back to when he was a junior and I was starting out on the circuit, we've always had this rivalry and I think he's pushed me every single step of the way.

“I couldn't imagine anyone worthier of being my rival than Tom. I'd like to apologize to him and all of you for the part I played in the sniping and bitching over the years. We're both different men now and... I'd like to think that we have the same person to thank for that.”

The crowd breaks into a hearty round of applause as Jared steps away from the mic and makes his way around the court with the trophy.

“FYI, you can totally fuck him now,” Chad hisses audibly from where they're seated in the box and Jensen elbows him hard.

“Drinks are on me!” Sandy calls as she flattens her skirt and stands up smartly. Soon the box empties out and it's just Jensen standing there, watching everything unfold below. Jared seems to sense something because he stops where he is and looks towards the box.

And then he blows a kiss.

To anyone else it'll look like he's doing it to the crowd but Jensen knows better.

Tennis might begin with love, but for the first time in his life, it's ended with love too.

 **Fin**.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
